


The Crowning

by akelios



Series: Playing for the Crowd [4]
Category: The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-13
Updated: 2011-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:54:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 81,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25851670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akelios/pseuds/akelios
Summary: First baby, then marriage.That's how it goes, right?Sort of.
Relationships: Harry Dresden/Johnny Marcone
Series: Playing for the Crowd [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/12986
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The final, forever unfinished story in a series I never meant to start. 
> 
> Much as I still enjoy The Dresden Files, I haven't felt like writing in it in years, so this fic will remain as it is. But I wanted to get it all in one place, and even as much as I cringe at some of the things I've written, I still hold a fondness for this entire pile of near Hallmark-ian ridiculousness.
> 
> Again, I'm sure I've missed a tag or a character, and there was no beta. The fic what she is.

4 Months Old

I came awake quickly, the sounds of Maggie screaming cutting right through into my hind brain. My heart jumped into overdrive and I was out of the bed and into her room before the front half of my brain could catch up. There was no monster, no threat. Just Maggie in her crib, hungry and pissed off that we'd moved her into her room instead of letting her sleep in our bed. Again.

“This is getting old.” I frowned sternly down at my infant daughter. Now that she had mommy's attention, she went quiet and cooed at me. Cuteness. It was a defense mechanism so children survived to adulthood. “The crib is for your own good, munchkin. I will roll your tiny ass out of bed one of these nights, and that's no good. Also, I will eventually allow your dad to try and have sex with me again. I'm creeped out enough when I notice Mister awake and watching us. I don't want that to be your first memory.” I made an 'ew' face at Maggie. She giggled and started smacking her gums together. “And another thing. I am your mother. I demand respect. That means you have to realize that I am not simply meals-on-wheels.” I picked her up and we made our way over to the rocking chair. 

Marcone showed up in the doorway maybe twenty minutes later. Maggie was falling asleep, fat and happy in my arms. He leaned down to kiss us, first the baby, then me. He smelled of cordite and the docks.

“Was that Goethe you were reciting?”

“The Erl King. I figure she needs all the early warnings she can get.”

“Mm.” He lifted Maggie from my hands and walked over to the window. I watched them, and didn't smile. My lips might have curled up a bit, but it was not a smile. I was not going to be one of those people who gushes at the littlest thing involving a baby. Not even my own. Dammit. Okay, it was sweet. “I want to have her baptised.”

“Bwah?” Out of nowhere, that one.

“Baptised. It's this quaint little ceremony where we take our daughter into a church. That's a large building where people gather to worship. And a priest prays over her, washes her in blessed water and-”

“We promise to raise her Catholic. I- um. I didn't realize that you wanted to raise Maggie Catholic, John. This is sort of coming all of a sudden, you know?”

“I was thinking more along the lines that it might grant her some level of protection, Harry. If you don't want to do it, we don't have to.” I sighed. It's not like it was a big deal, really. I didn't have a huge problem with religion, in general. I just didn't have much of a use for it, personally. But Marcone did. Marcone was a believer, in his own way. And that might even mean that she really would have a little extra protection. Hell, if we made Michael and Charity the godparents, it was almost guaranteed.

“It's fine. We can have her baptised. But I'm making no guarantees on the Catholic thing. I'm not going to pay lip service to something I don't believe in. I want Maggie to be able to choose her faith, if she wants one, when she's older.” Marcone returned to me, Maggie sleeping in his arms.

“Of course. I just need to do this, Harry. I need to know that I've done at least this much right by her.” I rubbed at my face, my eyes. I was too tired for this conversation.

“Okay. I'll talk to Father Forthill in the morning.” I rose and headed back for our room. “I'm going back to sleep, Marcone. Don't stay up all night.”

~

The ceremony was quick, and quiet. At least until after Father Forthill dipped Maggie into the baptismal font. After that the church got noisy for a while. Maggie did not appreciate the gravity of the situation, and she did not like getting wet. Not only did she scream like a banshee, but when he pulled her out of the water and held her against himself, Maggie peed on Fr. Forthill. He took it well, with the same sense of humor he always had, and I refrained from doubling over in laughter.

We took Michael, Charity and Molly out for lunch afterward. I invited Forthill, I figured he deserved it after getting peed on, but he had to get ready for the evening Mass and declined. Murphy had class and had to take off right after the ceremony was over. Lunch was nice, right until Helen Beckitt and one of Marcone's mid-level managers walked up to the table. I didn't bother trying to hide my sneer, and Beckitt returned the look with the same complete lack of expression or emotion as she did everything else. Michael kicked me under the table. He was trying the 'negative reinforcement' method to teaching me manners. So far, he wasn't having any luck.

“Ms. Demeter. Torelli.” Marcone didn't rise. Neither one of them was important enough for that I guess.

“Mr. Marcone. We were just leaving and we spotted you. Wanted to pay our respects.” Marcone nodded. Because people did that all the time. No, really. They did. They wandered over in restaurants to say 'hi', only with more words and a lot of ass kissing. Marcone and Torelli started to talk about some minor point of business. I tuned them out and focused on Beckitt. She was watching Charity, who was holding Maggie. Something that might have been a smile on a human being sliced across her face and then was gone.

“Your daughter is beautiful.” Charity looked at Helen and her eyes narrowed. The woman had really good instincts.

“Maggie is Harry's bundle of stink.” Charity and I both whipped our heads around to glare at Molly. The young woman subsided back into her chair, a look of puzzled contrition on her face. She didn't know what she'd done wrong. Fuck. I didn't trust Beckitt on principle. She seemed to have reformed, as much as someone working as the madam of a high class escort service can be called reformed, but I'd seen into her soul. She was not all there, and she never would be.

“Oh. Oh, of course. I had heard that you were pregnant, Ms. Dresden. But you know how such rumors are. Congratulations. She's beautiful.”

“Thanks.” I hissed the word out and her eyes flickered with something. Sadness? Damn. I was not going to let the sociopath make me feel any sorrier for her than I already did. She got enough guilt mileage out of Marcone.

Eventually, business concluded, they left. I twisted in my seat to lock eyes with John.

“I think Helen needs to find some other city to live in, Marcone.” He frowned at me and turned his attention back to his lunch. “She makes my skin crawl.” A slight exaggeration. But it sounded so much better than, 'I don't like her saying nice things to me about my baby'. Which sounded childish and not at all mysterious and wizardly. Okay, neither did anything else I could think of. I just didn't want her near Maggie.

“I'll speak to her about the possibilities of relocation. Perhaps being out of Chicago will do her some good.”


	2. Chapter 2

“How do you like the nanny?”

“Abigail?” I flexed my fingers in the cold air and monitored the progress of my assistants. They were nearly in position. “She's good. Fine. I think she's Xena or an ex-CIA spook or something, which I like a whole lot.” I held up my hand to forestall any more conversation.

“Ready?”

“Harry! This can't be real training! You're just getting back at me for the whale jokes!”

“Would I be so petty? Aim!” I raised my right hand in the air and held it there for a second, savoring the look of panic on my apprentice's face. “Concentrate, Molly! Fear is the mind killer!” One more long, slow breath. “FIRE!” I dropped my arm and a barrage of snowballs descended on Molly. The first few bounced off her shield, shattering to make little drifts at the base. Then the purplish light stuttered, failed, and Molly squealed as her older brother Daniels snowball hit her straight in the face.

“Oooh. Another important lesson, Molls. Always keep your mouth closed in a snowball fight!” She coughed, half laughing and spit out a mouthful of snow. Little Harry, who made up for aim and distance with a lot of enthusiasm, ran right up to Molly and dumped a snowball the size of his own head on her legs. Hope, who had been hiding behind my legs, suddenly darted out into the yard and tackled one of Molly's legs while Little Harry latched onto the other. She went down and the training degenerated into a melee, with the rest of the Carpenter children joining in.

It looked like a lot of fun, actually. But such things were beneath my dignity as both an adult and a wise mentor type. Or so I firmly told myself. Charity shifted her weight, drawing my attention back to her.

“Ex-CIA?”

“Or something like. I'm very firmly not asking. Marcone brought her in, and I know he knows the story behind the fake information I was able to dig up. I checked her out magically and she's clean.” I watched the kids for a second. “Can I ask you something?” Charity hesitated. We weren't sniping at one another all the time now, but the truce was still relatively new and a little uncertain. Molly's rescue and my relationship with Marcone seemed to have eased us into some zone where we were almost but not quite friends. Quite honestly, though, I didn't have a whole lot of options here. None of my other friends had had babies. Let alone as many as Charity, and she was really good at the mom thing from what I could see.

“Yes.”

“Do you ever...do you ever want them to be someone else's' responsibility? Not for forever. Just for a little bit. An hour.” I watched Charity look at me out of the corner of my eye. I waited for the judgment to come down. I was a bad mom. I had to be. I loved Maggie more than I could say, but there were times, when she was crying and I couldn't figure out what she wanted that I wished I could hand her to someone and walk the fuck away for a while. Which, I guess, I could. Only I couldn't. Because she was mine.

“All the time. Especially when they were younger.” I gaped at her. “Did you think you were the first mother to feel overwhelmed? And you have help, Harry. Mothers have been feeling out of patience and at the end of their tethers since Eve gave birth to Cain. You feel like shit, like the worst parent in history because you get tired and frustrated and want to scream and cry. But you don't, do you, Harry?

“You get it all under control and you sing and you dance until you figure out what it is and make her happy. It gets better. Not easier. God knows, they just come up with other things to drive you nuts. But Maggie's only...what? Ten months old?”

“Nine.”

“Nine months.” Charity laughed. “Is she trying to walk yet?”

“God, yes. She does this thing where she pulls herself up and just stands there, staring. She'll get her feet moving, this weird little hoppy movement, but she doesn't go anywhere yet. Thankfully. I don't know what I'm going to do once she's walking. Her crawling is bad enough. She's like the Flash! One second I know right where she is and the next she's three rooms over, yanking on one of the security guys pants because she thinks he has her binky! Never mind that she left the binky in my pocket during breakfast- Maggie's always giving people her stuff. It's nuts. I had one guy go home with a pocketful of Cheerios the other day. Slightly gummed Cheerios, I must add.” I laughed. Fredo had not been amused. The suit had been expensive and baby drool was not clothes friendly.

A happy scream drew our attention back to the kid pile. Molly was no longer on the bottom. She had somehow wormed her way out and was now gleefully spinning around, holding Hope by her ankles so that the smaller girl swung out from her in a little arc. It looked like a lot of fun.

“You never had a snowball fight as a child?” I glanced at Charity, then back at the kids. They'd stopped playing and were all huddled together. I turned to face Charity, giving the kids my back.

“Nah. We were on the road too much when I was little for me to make a whole lot of friends, then at the foster homes, the orphanage, it wasn't...we had other things to worry about. No one wanted to make too much mess, too much noise for the parents. Then my teachers. Well. Again, other things to worry about.”

“It makes good training though?” 

I shrugged and shuffled my boots in the snow. She raised her eyebrows at me and I smiled, starting to twirl my fingers in a tiny gesture in front of me.

“It's a nice, safe way to work on shielding. Even when Molly screws up and the snowballs get through, nobody gets hurt. A little chilled, but nothing some hot chocolate won't cure.”

“You're not being too easy on her? Because of Michael?” Hah. Trust Charity to worry her daughter was getting off too easy.

“Nope. That wouldn't do her any good.” A tiny shout of victory came a second or so after the heavy, muffled thump of snow boots behind me. My own shield went up in that half a breath between the two sounds so that the snowballs aimed at me splattered across it, bursting into puffs. I turned so I could watch the small snowstorm I'd whipped up wash over the traitors. The kids shrieked and giggled, some groans of disappointment mingling with the happier sounds.

“How'd you learn? To shield, I mean. Yours are very...solid.” I bit my lip and let the wind start to die down. A mini-blizzard would probably get noticed by the neighbors.

“Baseballs.” I made sure that the tone of my voice didn't encourage any more questions. Justin was not someone I thought about if I could help it. And I sure as hell wasn't going to have Charity deciding she needed to fix me and my trauma either. My trauma and I did just fine by ignoring one another.

“Hah! You have to be slicker than that, Molls!” I stuck my tongue out, which I admit was not the most mature thing I've ever done. Then I shrieked, jumping a good foot forward as a pile of freezing snow was shoved down the back of my coat. 

Charity laughed and I gave her a look as I danced around, trying to get the snow to stop touching me. The funny thing is, the jerking, spastic dance I was doing probably saved my life. I tripped over some toy buried in the snow and went tumbling sideways just as a heavy blur thumped down where I'd been standing. The lights went out, leaving us in the fading light of sunset. It was just enough to see the thing, to see the very sharp, very heavy looking hooves that flashed through the air, straight at my face.

My shield went up even as I rolled, getting some more distance between me and the whatever the hell it was. I got flashing impressions of something sort of goat-ish, even as it moved on two feet, but it was moving too fast and there was still too much snow in the air from my little joke to get a really good look. I heard Charity shouting orders to the kids, the younger ones screaming. 

Fuck this shit. Who ambushes a bunch of kids playing in the snow? Especially the Carpenter kids? I reached into my coat and brought out my blasting rod. When I came up from my roll I was facing the thing that had jumped down at me from the tree. I growled out Fuego and flambed the thing. Burning whatever-the-fuck smells just awful, by the way. I hadn't been too careful about the size of my blast, and it melted a nice big chunk of the snow around the critter. Boiling hot steam erupted into the air and I covered my face, scrambling to my feet.

There were more of them.

I was just in time to watch one ram itself headfirst into the back door of the Carpenter's house. Daniel had slammed it on the thing as he went through with little Harry and Hope in hand. The blood curdling scream of pain and the noxious smoke that came off of its flesh where it touched the steel security door at least gave me a general idea of where these things had come from. Faerie. Perfect.

I didn't see Charity anywhere, which made my heart lurch. She wouldn't leave her kids in danger, so what the hell had happened? Molly was on the far side of the yard, dragging Alicia with her as she dove for Matthew. Another one of the creatures was chasing them down. I spat, cursed. They were too close together for me to use fire, or force.

“Hey! Hey, you ugly son of a bitch!” I thumped my foot to the earth as hard as I could. It didn't make a whole lot of sound, but the thing turned. It had yellow eyes, goat's eyes. I flipped it off and those eyes narrowed. Well. It had a good grasp of human slang at least. Behind it, behind him, Molly and the kids vanished under a veil. Good girl.

Goat-man scuffed his hooves into the snow, pawing at it like a horse or a runner trying to get some traction before they took off. I made a little 'come on' gesture and settled my shoulders, waiting for the rush.

Which is when the one that I'd thought I'd killed jumped me from behind. It's not fair when things that strong are also organized. I slammed face first into the earth, the snow not cushioning my fall in the least. Pain exploded from my nose and I tasted blood. I'd have cursed him all the way back to the stone age if I'd been able to talk through the mouthful of snow and dirt. As it was, I had to settle for reaching back behind myself and grabbing the first soft, dangly thing I found, then squeezing. Here's a helpful hint: don't get into fist fights naked. 

He brayed and smashed my head down again. Not the reaction I'd been hoping for. The world went a little vague for a few seconds, and then his weight was off me. There was a loud, high battle cry, some screaming in that same half-animal tone that the things had, and then silence.

“Harry, are you okay? Can you move?” I grunted and shoved myself up onto my hands and knees. Charity knelt down and got her shoulder under my arm, helping me stagger to my feet. I blinked to clear my vision, but it didn't help all that much. One of the goat-things was dead a foot in front of us, what looked like the end of a tent peg sticking out of its back, black goo oozing from it's eyes, nose and mouth. It was melting from the inside. I craned my neck around, which was a bad idea if the nauseating pain it set off was any indication. The one that I'd been fighting with was smoking from the giant dent in his forehead. Someone had taken a shovel to his head. Charity nudged me. “Let's get inside, Harry.”

“Faeries. Why the fuck are the faeries trying to kill me this time?”

“Harry! We need to get inside.” I pushed away from her and stood on my own.

We slipped around to the front door. A quick search revealed no further goat assassins, and the kids all in the bolt hole, with Molly and Daniel right behind the door, a baseball bat and a crowbar in hand.

“Thank the Lord.” Charity touched each of children on the head. The clung to her, the little ones, or to their bigger siblings. I wiped carefully at the blood splattering my chin and mouth and turned to stagger back down the stairs. “Harry, Harry wait! Your nose is broken and I think you might have a concussion. I need you to sit down so I can get a look-” I cut her off.

“I need to get home. If they tracked me here, they could have sent someone to the house. Maggie's there!” I ran down the stairs two at a time and I'm pretty sure I cleared the last foot or so of stairway without touching a single step. 

I don't remember a whole lot of the drive out to Marcone's place. I know I passed Michael's truck a few streets away from his house – I remember seeing his puzzled face as I sped by as fast as the Beetle could go. Aside from that, the drive was a vague impression of white, spattered with the colors of signs and other cars, the wavering lights of traffic signals.

The Beetle wheezed and puttered into the drive and I nearly smashed my face into the steering wheel as I hit the brakes. The front gate was gaping half open, the electronic lock blackened and ruined. There were fucking bullet marks on the walls, places where the stone had been chipped by the impacts. My head swam, my eyes focusing in on the marks of battle and then wavering out again. Bullets. Someone had been shooting bullets at my house. They had been shooting at Maggie.

I was going to kill them. 

I found myself out of the Beetle and stumbling toward the gate. The ground slid to one side and I leaned the other way to keep my feet.

“Ms. Dresden?” I opened my eyes to see two of the guys who worked the grounds holding onto me, dragging me up off the cold ground. I didn't remember falling. They lifted me between them and started carrying me back to the Beetle. I shoved at one of them, but they stuffed me into the passenger seat anyway.

“Maggie. I need to get to Maggie you ass.” I was cold, and keeping my eyes open was getting harder and harder.

“Miss Maggie is safe. They didn't make it onto the grounds.” He said something else, but I didn't catch it. It slid over my brain without making any sense at all. “-teams out to locate you and Mr. Marcone. He's not answering his cell, and neither are Mr. Hendricks or Ms. Gard.” 

I thought that I should sit up, take charge somehow. I needed to see Maggie, and then we needed to find Marcone. But when I tried to push myself out of my slouch against the door, blackness swept over me and I couldn't do anything at all.


	3. Chapter 3

I wasn't out for long. Marcone's men are quick and efficient, so in the maybe five minutes I was out, they got me into the house and down into the Freak the Fuck Out Room. Or, as Marcone liked to refer to it, the safe room. Whatever. It was a room designed to withstand heavy arms fire, to be impossible to break into. It was also warded with the heaviest magic Sigrun and I could put together. Nearly a years worth of work went into it, and it was insanely secure.

It was also where Maggie was to be taken under most of the plans Marcone had drawn up for when we were attacked. Not if, when. There are a lot of reasons I love Marcone. His firm grasp on reality, for the most part, is high on the list.

I woke up to my daughter making the high pitched warbling sound she makes when she's amused at something and George leaning over me, poking at my nose. It was the pain from that last bit that woke me up. I cursed and Maggie's noises stopped in a sudden, fascinated silence. I cursed again. We did not want Maggie's first word to be 'fuck' or any of my other favorite words.

“Good to see you haven't mellowed any.”

“Fu-” I bit my tongue. “Fudge you, Georgie. Touch my face again and I'll set your hair on fire.”

“Uh-huh. Your nose is broken, but I don't think we need to re-set it. How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Twelve.” I held up four. He nodded and let me sit up. “What the hell happened?” Maggie, in Abby's arms, stared at me. I smiled at her and her eyes got wider. Huh.

“Full on assault. Nothing subtle, but plenty of fire power. Started about half an hour ago. We dealt with it, but we couldn't get an answer at the Carpenter's place, and Mr. Marcone is out of touch. I'm guessing you had some trouble?”

“Yeah, but not human trouble. My side of the fence trouble. Was magic employed here?”

“Not that we noticed.” He fished the little amulet we'd worked up and given to the guys who were in the know and trusted enough to have access to anything remotely magical. “This thing stayed dark the entire time. It was strictly a physical assault.”

“Great.” I ran my hands through my hair and tried to make myself think. “Okay. Did we capture any of the attackers?”

“Um.”

“Right. Never mind. Silly me. Either we have two coincidental attacks, or mortals and fae are coordinating.”

“There's no such thing as coincidence, Lady Kaboom.”

“I know. Believe me, I know.” I stumbled to my feet. “What's the play here?”

“Didn't you read the-”

“I skimmed.” George sighed.

“You're in charge until the boss is located.”

“Great. I hereby delegate all illegal shi- stuff to you, George. Try not to blow up anything we wouldn't blow up.”

“That leaves me a lot of leeway, ma'am.”

“We're secure, I take it?”

“Safe as houses. And the clean-up is well under way.”

“Then our next priority is locating Marcone. Where was he today?”

“A meeting with a Mr. Nicholaus Betruger. Something about negotiating rights to work in the city. Preliminary stuff, which is why the meeting was being held at the end of the day over a drink. We've contacted the restaurant, and Mr. Marcone left about forty-five minutes ago.” 

“About the time the attacks went down here and at the Carpenters.”

“A little before. Our guy says the boss left in a hurry, on his cell phone. Mr. Hendricks and Ms. Gard were with him, and none of them looked happy.”

“Did he call here?” I walked over to Maggie. My daughter looked up at me and shied away, burying her face in Abby's neck. Hell. My face must be awful. I ran a hand over her head, the soft, fine cap of black hair. 

“If he tried, the call didn't get through.”

“Abby, you and Maggie stay down here until we know what's going on. Sorry about the décor.” I waved a hand at the walls covered in magical symbols.

“Not a problem. Maggie and I will be fine.” I took a deep breath and turned, leaving my daughter behind, where she'd be safe. I didn't want to. I wanted to stay with her, but Marcone was out there and so was whoever had attacked us.

“George, get me the location of the nearest bolt hole to the restaurant. I'm going to get someone tracking down my attackers and then we're heading out to find John.” George took off down the hall to one of the smaller offices to make his calls. I headed up to my mini-lab.

“Bob!” I let the door slam shut behind me. Bob's eyelights flickered into being and I could feel him taking stock.

“Harry? Did no one ever teach you to duck?”

“Not the time for jokes, Bob. We're under attack.” The skull gave off the impression of someone cocking their head to one side. I had no idea how he managed to be so expressive without any skin or muscle. One of the great mysteries of life.

“I don't hear any explosions...”

“Not actively right this second. Someone tried to bust into the mansion earlier, and a bunch of fae kicked my ass.” I sketched out a rough description of the goat-things.

“Are you sure they were faerie?”

“Know anything else that reacts that badly to iron?”

“Mmmm...no, but I don't think I've ever heard of these things. Oh! Were there any naked women around? Because if so, then I think I need to check the scene out.”

“What? What do- No. Never mind. I don't want to know. There were no naked women. Just naked goat-things. And they were very much male.”

“Then I've got nothing for you, Harry. But most of the fae I know are Winter. These could be wyldfae, hired hands.”

“Would Mab hire outside help to take me out?” I shook my head. “It doesn't feel right. I haven't done anything to Winter that I can think of.”

“Well, there's the whole Arctis Tor thing, but other than that...”

“Sarcasm is not a social skill, Bob. I didn't attack Arctis Tor.”

“No, you just came along afterward and poured a whole bunch of Summer power into Winter's wellspring. I'm sure that didn't have any consequences. Also, Mab's a little...” He waggled the skull back and forth.

“Maybe. It's hard to know which person I pissed off is trying to kill me.” Which should probably be a hint about how I live my life. “I want you to find out who these guys are, Bob. If we know where the goat boys are from, it'll give us a better idea of where the motive lies. You have my permission to come out for tonight to track down these assassins. Back in the skull by sunrise.”

“You got it.” His lights swirled out of the skull and started to trail out the door to find Mister. “Watch your back, boss.”

“You got it.” 

George was waiting for me a few doors down the hall from the lab. None of the guys got too close, not after the time one forgot to knock and came in on me in a cloud of the Guard. That in itself wouldn't have been enough to freak one of Marcone's men out, but the Guard's reaction to it had been. They'd reacted swiftly and violently, small swords out in the blink of an eye and the unfortunate flunky surrounded, backed up against the opposite wall. I guess being attacked by things out of a kids book is a little much for some people.

“I think we found 'em.” He handed me a slip of paper with a downtown address scrawled on it. “This is the nearest safe location. Only, there's a problem. Police and fire services are already there.” My heart leapt into my throat before it dropped like a stone.

“Do we have any details?” I started to move through the house. My coat was near the front door and I pulled it on.

“Not yet.”

“Right. I'm heading down there. I'll check it out and get back to you on what's going on.” George slid in front of me, blocking the door.

“Let me go get one or two of the guys to go with you.”

“No, George. There are police there. You guys are good, but kind of noticeable. I pull up in one of Marcone's cars, with Marcone's guys like some mafia princess, I'm going to get kicked out. Hell, I'll probably get kicked out anyway, now that Murphy's off the force, but I've still got a better chance without the guys.”

“Ma'am, it's procedure. They can drop you off a few blocks away, out of sight, and shadow you.”

“I didn't read the manual.” I rolled my shoulders in a shrug. “I'll be fine, George. I'm in charge, right?”

“Yeah. Doesn't mean you get to go off all Lone Ranger and ignore protocol. We might have already lost-” I grabbed his arm, my fingers digging in, bruising. George shut up.

“We are going to find Marcone, Georgie. He's got Gard and Hendricks with him, and he's fine.” He winced, a tiny movement in his face near his eyes, and I let him go. “Fine. Call one of the guys. We'll take the Beetle and he can stay with the car. Once we're there I'll be surrounded by cops, and no faerie is going to risk setting the mortal cops off on the magical world.” While I waited, I called for a little back up of my own.

~

Tony and I got to the scene eventually. The snow hadn't let up, there was maybe a foot of snow on the ground and Beetle, while stylish, was not an SUV or even an ATV. I left Tony a block away, killing time inside one of the few diner's that was still open. By the time I got to the police tape, my face had stopped hurting, mainly because it had frozen solid.

For once, my luck was a little bit good. It was too cold for there to be much of a crowd and the patrol cops were all huddled over with the EMT's, sipping coffee for lack of anything better to do. I wasn't sure if the lack of activity on the human injury front was a good thing or a bad one. My luck got even bettwer when I recognized the one cop who wasn't hanging out next to the ambulance.

“Rawlins!” I shouted to be heard over the wind and waved a little. A perk of being as tall as I am? I'm easy to spot in a crowd. Also, if I ever needed a side line, getting things off of high shelves for little old ladies was an option. The older man nodded and made his way over to me.

“Dresden. Nice to see you. You shouldn't be here.” I grunted.

“I'm not.” I gave him a small smile. “I need to get a look. Close as I can without mucking anything up.”

“Then back up another fifty feet.” My smile hardened on my lips.

“This is from my side of things, Rawlins. I need to check it out. I know I'm not popular with CPD, but lives are at stake here.” Maggie's, Marcone's, mine, and everyone who would get caught in the crossfire or the fire sale that would happen if we went down.

“You are less than not popular, Dresden. You are in the shit and sinking fast. Marcone? You couldn't have fucked the mayor or somebody?”

“His Rahm-ness scares me.” I shrugged. “Look, you walk me through it. Make sure I don't touch anything. This is big.” I watched him consider. I'd known that things would get harder with Murphy out of the force, but this was the first time I'd had any dealings with the police since then. I'd gotten used to having at least some of them trust me. This was like being back to square one.

“Five minutes. You touch one damn thing and I will throw you out of here and into the deepest snowdrift I can find.”

“Yessir.” I gave him a little mock salute and slipped under the tape. The other cops weren't paying any attention.

“You're going to need one of these.” Rawlins handed me one of those little masks, like the kind you wear when you're working on wood or anything that kicks up a lot of dust. I slipped it on and followed him closer to the smoldering building. “We still can't go in, the fire department hasn't cleared the place structurally.” He led me over to an alley between the destroyed building and the one beside it. 

We'd gone maybe half a dozen steps into the alley when a familiar scent caught my attention.

“Fuck me.”

“What?” Rawlins' usual laconic drawl hit a questioning note. I pulled the mask off enough that I could take a breath without it. Damn. Damn. Damn. Literally, in this case.

“Hellfire. Son of a bitch.” 

“'Hellfire'?” I moved past Rawlins, headed deeper into the alley.

“You smell that sulfur and burnt scent?”

“Dresden, the building was on fire twenty minutes ago. Everything smells burnt.” But he took a deep breath without the mask. “Yeah. Rotten eggs. So?”

“It's the signature of some magic some major baddies I've run into a few times use. They are worse news than I wanted to hear right now.” Fuck. The coordinated attack, assuming that the Denarians were working with the faeries that attacked me, made more sense. Nicodemus was a great one for planning ahead.

A few feet further down the alley was the break between rubble and standing building. It was a mess. I climbed over some girders and pieces of wall before I got to where I could see the damage from the other side. It looked right, for massive destruction. Chaos, with little rhyme or reason. Except for one place along the wall, maybe five feet up. There, the jagged edges gave way to a perfectly smooth half-circle, like someone had just sliced that section away with a torch. I leaned in and took a deep breath. The Hellfire was stronger, here. I reached out to touch the smooth cut in the wall and Rawlins made a noise. Right, right. Hands off.

The surface of the cut looked melted. Slagged. Something very, very hot had cut through this wall and everything beyond it. The edges were angled, just slightly. I stood up and turned to examine the wall of the building beside us. Beneath a thin dusting of snow I could see the dark outlines of something written on the wall at what I estimated was the right height.

“You're almost outta time, Dresden.”

“I'm going as fast as I can here. Hang on.” I raised my hand and whispered the spell Molly had adapted from my wind spell. “Ventas reductas.” This apprentice thing was really turning out better than I'd thought. With Molly not being anywhere near my level of power we'd had to do a lot of thinking about the spells I used and how they could be wielded by someone who wasn't the magical equivalent of the Incredible Hulk. Hence the spell that allowed me to blow a fairly gentle breeze over the wall, clearing the snow from the markings beneath.

“Fuck. Well, that can't mean anything good.” It resembled a pentacle, only the circle, which represented human will controlling the magic, was being pierced by the points of the star within. It was...there was chaos and violent written in its very design. I turned to Rawlins. “I need another minute. I need to circle the whole building.” And then I took off. Not running, but at a solid pace. I could hear Rawlins cursing and muttering, but following close behind.

I found four more of the markings in a circle around the building. By the time we made it back to the original mark, I had a good idea of what had been done in the broad strokes. Just not why, or how. 

“You done now, or you want to maybe crawl around inside the building, really piss me off?” I winced at Rawlins' tone. He'd given me a little leeway and I'd trampled on it a bit.

“Sorry. I'm sorry. Just...this is bigger than I thought. Thank you.” I slipped back under the police tape and left Rawlins and the remaining officers behind me. I started walking, but not back to the car. About a block in the opposite direction, I ducked into an alley and opened the front of my coat. Toot, dressed in what passed for faerie winter clothes, zipped out. The fae didn't really feel cold, or anything, like humans, so the little guy was wearing his normal tiny gangster outfit, only he'd added a tiny trench coat to the look. I had to find out who was supplying the Guard with all these clothes. It was getting a bit ridiculous.

“You ready for a little action, Toot?”

“Always, my Lady!” And he snapped off a quick salute. At least some things never changed.

“Okay. I need you to check the area for me. I'm looking for information about the magic that happened back at the building we just left. Anything at all. And if you need to, let the local fae know that I'm willing to pay in pizza.” Toot's face took on a decidedly aggrieved mien for a second, before he schooled it into a passable imitation of Hendricks' blank face of disapproval.

“Pizza? What if their information isn't useful?”

“We won't know that until we get it. And we won't get it if we don't play fair.” I stuffed my hands into my coat pockets. “Of course, as soon as we get this taken care of, we can head home and I'll get the rest of that Hawaiian pizza heated up for you.”

“Th-the Hawaiian?” Toot practically convulsed in the air. And then he was gone, a brilliant afterimage left in his wake. I leaned against the alley wall and thought.

Someone, Nicodemus I was assuming, had built a big ass circle around Marcone's safe house. Not just a circle, a pentagram. Those were used to catch things, or to summon them. In their smaller, natural forms anyway. I couldn't think of anything that would need a circle that big, and I really didn't want to. The sheer power it had taken to bring the circle up and then keep it running, even for a little bit was staggering. I started to run the figures in my head, trying to come up with a workable estimate on the power needed. I didn't get far before Toot came streaking back into the alley.

“Run!” Toot barreled straight into me, going so far as to grab onto my hair and start tugging, trying to urge me further down the alley.

“Hey!” I grabbed at him and he zipped away, dodging me. “Toot, what the hell are you-”

A sound echoed down the alley. A single, heavy stride. For some reason it sent a spike of fear through me. I ran. I followed Toot down the alley and out the other side, wheeling left and ran as fast as I could through the high drifts. If I was remembering right, and I really hoped I was, there was a police station maybe three blocks in this direction. 

Toot landed on my shoulder and rode for the last block or so, a solid weight that oddly enough gave me a little comfort. Every hair on my body felt like it was standing on end and I was utterly certain that if whatever was out there caught me, I would wish I was dead. I took a right at Toot's direction and spotted the station, brightly lit with officers moving in and out. A surge of relief hit me and I renewed my struggles with the snow.

Two steps later, an arctic wind came up and slammed me in the face. I stumbled back and threw an arm up in front of my face. The wind didn't let up, but it shifted, bringing with it heavy flurries of snow. I grabbed Toot and shoved him into an inner pocket, tried to push forward. Wind punched at me, drove me back, to one side. I stumbled into a wall, blind except for swirling white, and felt my way along, trying to find a doorway or something.

The alley entrance surprised me as I fell into it, nearly falling to my knees at the sudden, blessed silence and cessation of battering wind. I coughed and shook myself, staggering a few steps before I straightened up.

“That was not normal.”

“Indeed not. You are welcome, my child.” Two things happened at once. A large, feline form emerged from the shadows at the end of the alley, stalking towards me. And someone came up behind me and pressed themselves against my back, a hand as cold and hard as ice grabbed at my waist, trapping my arms against my sides. Another slid through my hair, cradling the curve of my skull with long, feminine fingers, the nails lightly scraping at my scalp.


	4. Chapter 4

The cat-thing paced toward me, and as it came into the light I could see that it was a malk. A big one. Toot squirmed in my coat and then he was out like a shot, zipping into the air and then arcing back around, a brilliant little comet. The woman holding me released my head to point at Toot as he came, his small voice shouting and I jumped as power slipped out of her, icy even in the winter cold. It hit Toot and he froze, literally froze, in mid-air. I made a sound, as he fell, frost rimmed and blue, to the snow. He landed with a puff and I snarled, struggled with my captor. They were stronger than I was, and I got nowhere. Finally, I slumped, defeated, and forced the person behind me to take my weight, letting my head sag forward a bit. The malk purred, a pleased sound. 

Then I snapped my head back and felt the squish-crunch of impact as I broke someones nose. The malk made a startled, pained yowling sound and the arms around me loosened slightly. Just enough for me to slam my elbow back, as hard as I could, right under my attacker's rib cage. Air whuffed out, past my ear and I shoved, getting myself clear. I staggered, twisted until my back hit the wall of the alley, my shield up and ready. The malk hissed and stopped, sitting down on the snow covered ground. I turned my attention to the person who had grabbed me.

Mab stood in the alley, beautiful and deadly as always, a crown of ice shining in the streetlight. Her nose was slightly skewed, a thin trickle of blood coming from one nostril. Hells, she even managed to bleed with icy elegance. As I watched she smiled and touched two fingers to the bulge where the break began. When she moved her hand away, her nose was perfect once more. Mab wiped the blood from her upper lip, never taking her eyes from me and licked her fingers clean, all with that same pleased and indulgent smile.

“I would have expected better manners from one trained by Lea. I shall have to speak to her about your education.” The malk spoke and I turned to look at it.

“I'd like to see that. My godmother would feed you to her hounds before you could get a word out.”

“Hardly. Lea would never raise her hand to her Queen. She is not so foolish as that.” I frowned at the malk, then looked back to Mab. She tilted her head at me, still smiling.

“Grimalkin?” I leaned forward a little, like that would help me figure out this new bit of insanity. “What- why are you speaking for Mab?”

“The answer to that is costly, child. Do you wish to negotiate a price? I would be fair, certainly.” I shook my head.

“No. I am in enough shit with the sidhe already. But you're over looking my point. Why does Mab need Grimalkin to speak for her?”

“Ah. You doubt that I am who I appear to be. Have you finally learned caution, then? Time and more, for that.” Mab walked closer, then past me. “Perhaps you would care to reminisce about old times?” She turned her head, slightly, and winked at me. The gesture startled me. The last time I'd seen Mab, she'd been playing ice statue and had done the same thing. While I was running away from all the forces of Winter, after I'd accidentally dumped a bunch of Summer power into Winter. There had been no one else there to see it – only Mab and I would know that. I swallowed the chunk of ice in my throat and dropped my shield.

That was a mistake. As soon as I did, Mab was there, in front of me, her fingers around my throat as she pinned me between her body and the wall. I gasped, but it happened so fast I didn't have time to react. Mab leaned in, her lips cold and oddly sensual against my lip, and whispered something to me. I don't know what it was. I remember feeling her lips brushing against my skin, and then there was pain. Like ice growing inside of me, inexorable, like a glacier, but fast, my organs being flash frozen. I'd have screamed, if my lungs still worked.

And then it was gone, the relief from the pain a sharp pleasure. Mab was still holding me, only it wasn't a pin anymore. She was seated on the ground, my head in her lap as she stroked my hair. Grimalkin sat beside us, staring into my face.

“Do you still doubt me, child?”

“No.” My voice was rough and it hurt my throat. I'd felt like this before, the pain making my limbs shake, the pleasure of relief turning me to liquid. Mab's hand caressed my shoulder, sliding down my arm and under the cuff of my jacket to touch the rounded scars on my wrist. I shivered and closed my eyes. Fucking Pavlovian responses. “I see you've been talking to Lea.” Grimalkin laughed.

“Your godmother and I have had may long, fruitful conversations. Many of them are about you, to one degree or another.”

“Fabulous. Did you kill Toot?” I could see the shimmering edge of one of his wings where it rose from the snow like the mast of some shipwreck and my heart twisted.

“Your defender lives, and will recover. Bravery such as his is hard to come by. You should value him more.” I bit down on the irony of Mab commenting on valuing ones friends. Pissing her off more would be counter productive. I just had to remember that.

“Then may I ask what you want?” I pushed myself up and slid back from her on the cold ground. She remained seated, and I wasn't sure my legs would hold me, so we faced one another, almost as if we were friends.

“You yet owe me two favors, Winter child. I am here to offer you a chance to repay one of these.”

“I am not Wint-” I took a deep breath and counted to ten. Did it matter that Mab thought of me as part of her court? Probably, in some way I didn't understand and couldn't do anything about. And that was the key. I couldn't do anything about it. Whether it mattered or not, I couldn't make Mab stop it. At least, not until I'd paid her back. Then, maybe, without any hold on me, she'd lost interest. Shut up. I'm working on the power of positive thinking, here. “I'm a little busy at the moment, Mab. Not that I don't really, really want to cut ties, but could this job maybe wait?”

“I am aware of your present difficulties. Perhaps even more so than yourself.” She waved her hand and a small snow flurry built between us. When it cleared, there was a tiny, perfect building made of snow. I frowned at it. It seemed familiar, but it didn't have any distinguishing marks. I opened my mouth to ask her what this admittedly pretty neat display had to do with anything, but Mab held up her hand and a tiny car drove up in front of the building. I shit you not, it even had little glowing headlights and I have no clue how she did that. 

I shut up and watched. Hendricks jumped out of the car, followed by a doll sized version of Marcone. Worry stabbed at me and I smacked it upside the head. Worry was well and good, but I didn't need it to keep distracting me. Gard got out the other side of the car and went to the trunk, retrieving her huge, double-headed axe. She carried it as if it weighed nothing, in the same way that Hendricks handled the machine gun that he pulled out of the backseat. Sigrun retrieved something that looked an awful lot like a medieval shield and braced it on her arm like she knew what she was doing. Marcone's figure held a phone and he kept punching at it, trying to get a good connection. But I knew that had failed, since no warning had come to either the Carpenters' home or to our house.

The figures moved down one side of the building. I thought it was the alley I'd started my inspection in earlier. Hendricks in front, with Marcone in the middle and Gard bringing up the rear. There wasn't any sound in this little display, but something must have made a noise because Marcone's head whipped up, staring right up at me. Then he reached into his jacket and whipped out one of his guns. Tiny puffs of smoke and light exploded from it and I jerked my head back instinctively. Happily, the puppet show didn't include tiny ice bullets. Hendricks followed Marcone's lead, training his gun on the same spot and opening fire. Larger, brighter blue lights exploded from it as Gard ducked in front of Marcone, somehow keeping out of his line of sight and fire as she did so, to cover most of his body with her own and with the shield.

They scuttled off to their left and then ducked into a door that opened in the wall. Hendricks fired off a few more rounds and then followed them. A few seconds later the outer defenses slid down, heavy sheets of steel snapped down over the doors and windows and I knew that more were going down inside the building, on the stairwells and other access points.

Nausea roiled in my stomach as I looked at the tiny, perfect building and thought of the burned ruin I'd left behind. Marcone had been inside. The whole scene froze and I looked up at Mab's face, my fists clenched against my thighs. 

“What happened? I need to see what happened next?”

“My Sight was obscured for the next several moments, child.” Grimalkin rumbled, sounding ill pleased with the idea as Mab waved her hand and the building vanished behind another flurry to be replaced with the same building, only on fire. The fine details were gone from the display, and I couldn't make out who was supposed to be who when a group of people burst from the burning building. One was in the center, surrounded and, from the way they stumbled and were shoved, prisoner. A van zipped to a stop in front of the group and the prisoner was struck from behind. He sprawled, limp and unconscious looking into the snow and was picked up and tossed into the back of the van. The rest of them jumped in and the van roared off. Seconds later, the building shuddered and collapsed in on itself, becoming a slightly more active version of the building I'd seen.

“Who did they take?”

“Your Baron.” Two more figures emerged from what was swiftly becoming rubble. I half-recognized Hendricks from the bulk of the figure alone. He was supporting Gard and they made it into the car, tires kicking up snow as they skidded on the slick surface, taking off way too fast for the conditions. Mab leaned back and the image collapsed in on itself. “You are hunting them, to retrieve your man.”

“Ah, yeah. Which is why I don't have time to do a job for you right now.” I put a faint hint of absolutely fake regret into my voice.

“Your quest and my 'job', as you call it, are connected. Intimately.” Mab rose. I didn't see it happen, but one second she was seated on the ground, the next she was standing, looking down at me. “The magic which blocked my Sight is familiar to me. It tastes of the same creature who attacked Arctis Tor. I want them. You will bring this creature to me, alive.” She smirked, glossy red-blue lips gleaming. The tip of one long, white canine took dented her lower lip. “I know that is difficult for you, to leave them alive, but that is what I require. Resurrecting them can take such time, and one never knows if they will remember what you want them to once you've done it.”

“I-” I was going to hunt the Denarians down anyway. Hunt them down and kill them. But that was different from handing someone over to be tortured, to say nothing of handing Mab a blackened denarius. On the other hand, they had attacked my family. They'd abducted Marcone and I had no doubts about what they would be willing to do to him to get whatever they were after. I'd seen what Nicodemus could do to a man. “How will I get him to you?” Mab dropped something into my lap. It was a pin, like a hat pin. Long and silvery, gleaming. The head was shaped, of course, into Mab's snowflake seal. It burned cold in my palm when I picked it up.

“Once you have him, place this in his body. It will bring him to me.” I could see Toot's wing twitching out of the corner of my eye, the frost slowly melting away. Mab turned, as if she was going to leave.

“Wait! I was attacked, earlier. By faeries. They were sort of...goat-y. Did you send-” Grimalkin laughed, though Mab threw back her head. Weird. Weird, weird faerie shit.

“The gruffs. No, they are not mine. They prefer warmer climates.” And then she and her spokes-being were gone. Warmer climates. Did that mean...Summer? Well, hell. A second later a very horrible thought hit me. Or, really, two of them. First, if the gruffs were Summer, did that mean that Summer was allied with the Denarians? And second, in the stories, the gruffs always had a bigger, badder brother waiting in the wings. I heaved myself up and retrieved Toot. He was half thawed and glaring, cursing under his breath and shivering.

“I-I'm s-sorry...I-” I tucked him back into my inner pocket and took a cloth handkerchief out of another, handing it down in to him.

“Don't apologise, Toot. That was Mab. Everyone gets their ass kicked when she's around. You did a very brave thing.” He made a disgusted sound and I could feel him moving around, drying himself off as the ice melted. The pin I stuck through the lining of my coat. I hated to do it, but with the sharp tip buried inside I figured I was fairly safe from stabbing myself with it accidentally. I rolled my neck and turned to head back out the alleyway. Tony was going to be so pissed I'd ditched him, even if I hadn't meant to. My staff had managed to land standing upright against the wall and I grabbed it on my way past.

Footsteps crunched on the snow a few seconds before two shadows appeared, blocking the mouth of the alley. I stopped, the hairs on the back of my neck rising, and then took a step back. The men, both wearing long overcoats and wide brimmed hats stepped toward me. My brain caught up with my instincts a few seconds later and I realized that they were leaving hoof-prints in the snow. Fuck.

They reached into their coats and I didn't wait to see what they were going to pull out. I raised my staff and shouted “Forzare!” The force went out in a wave. It slammed into them where they stood together and spun them out, back into the street. Faeries are tough as hell, and I knew that wouldn't keep them down for very long. So I turned and ran the other way.

Maybe a minute and a half later I heard a shrieking animal bellow and the heavy thud of hooves as the gruffs took up the chase. That was swiftly followed by a chattering burst of gunfire. I ducked my head down and ran faster. I wasn't about to look back, but it sounded like they had submachine guns, and they knew how to use them. Not movie spray and pray firing, but nice, controlled bursts. 

Luckily, thanks to my leather coat and the spells I'd worked into it, I was marginally more bullet proof than your average wizard. I felt a couple of hits, strong, bruising force through the coat, but nothing penetrated and I swung my staff into a small row of garbage cans as I went past. They scattered, rolling down the alley and making a shit load of noise. I heard a paff-thump behind me and figured that one of the gruffs had leapt over my little diversion.

“My Lady!” Toot was wriggling inside my jacket again, his high voice muffled.

“Not now! Stay put, Toot!”

Then the noises behind me stopped. Why in the hell would they just stop? Hells bells. I hate it when I don't figure out what's going on until the last second. My boots skidded on the snow as I tried to stop, the figure of the third gruff coming around the corner, a huge wooden staff in hand. I bared my teeth and pointed the tip of my staff at him like a battering ram. I growled out another “Forzare and the blast caught this gruff square in the stomach. He flew back, smacking into the wall a foot or so behind him. Bones, even faerie gruff bones, crunch when they get hit hard enough. Gruff number three snapped, crackled and popped as he slumped to the ground, his brothers screaming behind me.

His legs kicked weakly as I ran past, and I took the second I needed to swing my staff down at the back of his legs, right above the hooves. The move worked better on the gruff than it had on the centaur I'd last tried it on. He gave a weak, thready scream as I broke the delicate bones there. The ripping cough of the guns behind me kicked up again and I hauled ass. I'd be pissed too, if someone had done that to my brother.

I made it out of the alley and into the street, my lungs and legs starting to ache and burn. I had not been doing enough running lately. Laziness. I was going to run around the entire grounds twice, every day from now on because shit like this just keeps happening to me.

I ducked into the alley across the street and leaned against the wall, deep in shadows. The two remaining gruffs appeared at the mouth of the alley across the street, their guns away. A lone car inched down the street and I watched it. The gruffs ducked back down their own alley – they'd lost the hats somewhere along the way and were a little obvious, what with the horns and all. I took the opportunity to get a good look at the buildings they were standing between. One of them was a bank, all locked up for the night. The other had one of those giant 'construction here' signs on the front of it. Which meant it was vacant.

Well. That made this a bit easier to live with. I raised my staff and aimed it at the corner of the vacant building. I drew in my will and focused on what I wanted to do. This was a spell I'd worked out but never used. Mostly because it only had one purpose. Big boom.

“Concutere.” The magic went out of me, the energy it needed leaving me suddenly exhausted, drained. It was a big jump from my usual force spell. The brick side of the building across the street shook, a humming vibration that was almost too low to hear and then it exploded, shards whipping out and raining down as the bulk of the walls weight slid down into the alley. I turned away, shielded my face against the wave of dust a light debris that rolled across the street. The lights up and down the street fizzed, popped and went out, leaving me in darkness lit only by what moonlight made it through the heavy cloud cover. I waited, staff ready, until I heard the high bleating sounds of a wounded goat. Sirens kicked up in the distance and I decided it was time to be somewhere else.

“Hey Toot?” I opened my coat and let Toot loose. He blazed in front of me, glowing angrily. “You okay?”

“I'm fine! Why didn't you let me out to fight?!” He was fingering his small sword, eyeing me in irritation. “I'm your general. It's my job to fight for you!”

“I was holding you in reserve, Toot. In case I needed a save at the last second. I'm sorry I didn't have time to explain it to you.” He bit his lip, and spun in place.

“Okay. But next time, you let me help, okay, Harry?”

“Okay.” He held out his hand and I took it, very carefully pumping his little arm up and down. “Now, can you lead me to a convenience store? Some place with coffee and a phone?”

“Yes ma'am.” He buzzed up, high over my head. In a few seconds he was joined by a dozen more brilliant lights. They held some sort of conference and then Toot dropped back down. “This way!”


	5. Chapter 5

“That's not the Beetle, Tony.” I glared at my escort. He'd stumbled through the door a minute ago, shaking the snow off his coat as he took a quick look around, taking stock of everyone in sight. I'd popped the lid onto my coffee cup and wolfed down the last bite of my bagel, rising to meet him before he started frightening the guy behind the counter. Last thing I needed was a shoot out, or someone calling the cops.

“No ma'am.” He held the door open for me and nodded his head toward the urban assault vehicle that was idling in a no parking zone right in front of the store. “Your car's snowed in. I'll have someone shovel it out when the spring thaw starts.”

“Whatever. Get on the phone to George and find out where Hendricks and Gard would go around here if they were hit.” I opened the passenger door as I spoke, happy that I was tall and wouldn't need a step ladder to get into the damn thing. A hand grabbed at my coffee, trying to take it from me before I could spill it all over the leather seats and I looked over to find Thomas grinning at me. “And you are not part of the Outfit.”

“By proxy, sis.” Tony stepped up behind me and swung the door shut. I rolled the window down.

“I called Mr. Robb when I realized you ditched me. We decided that you'd be less likely to ditch Mr. Raith, so we called him. He was nice enough to come down and help out.” Tony was smiling, wide enough I was sure his face had to hurt.

“Not cool, Tony. I still need that address.” He held out a slip of paper. I snatched it out of his hand and tried to roll the window back up. It got about half-way and stuck, the little motor whining. I didn't glare at it, since that would probably only make the damn thing blow up or something. “Drive, Thomas.”

“Yes ma'am.”

~

“I hate the suburbs.” The snow was still flurrying, making reading the street signs nearly impossible.

“I don't know. They're kind of nice. That whole, American dream thing.”

“White picket fence, 2.5 kids and wifey at home baking?” I squinted out the open half of the window. “Why do all the streets have the same damn name? How'd they expect anyone to find anyplace?”

“Uh, no. That'd be Norman Rockwell. I just meant...you know. The green lawn, the dog, every family has their own home, their own space. Not packed in on top of each other like sardines.”

“And that'd be awesome, if that's what this was. But it's not. This is a lie, masquerading as that dream. Look at the distance between the houses. That's not a whole hell of a lot of yard, and I guarantee you that the price tag on these places means that no one ever owns them outright. Their mortgage payments are more than I pay for my apartment.”

“They're bigger than your apartment. Nicer, too.” I grunted.

“There. That one.” The Hummer made the turn, but it was close, the bulk of the damn thing leaning all to one side, making me grab at the oh shit bar and cuss Thomas out. The hair on the back of my neck stood straight up, my skin tight. Wary. The houses were all empty, gaping eye sockets and mouths, the quintessential creepy haunted house look, like I'd taken a left turn into a Stephen King novel. I was suddenly on edge, and it wasn't just Thomas' driving skills. “Something's out there.”

Thomas looked at me out of the corner of his eye and reached behind his seat. He pulled his sword belt forward, the saber and kukri shining in the street lights between stretches of darkness. I reached out, slowly and carefully with my senses, with my power. There were three spots of...slick, oily blackness out there, just beyond the lights. I couldn't pinpoint them exactly. They'd moved around and left a trail of themselves behind.

“You see it?”

“No. If I'd seen it, I'd point it the fuck out.” Okay, maybe that was a little snappish. “It's too dark and they're keeping a low profile. But they're slimy. Denarians.” I remembered Shiro mentioning that they smelled, once, to his senses, though Michael didn't seem to have that skill. Well, I got what Shiro had been saying now. They stank, magically speaking. I tapped my foot against the floorboards. “Okay. Shit.” I could see tire tracks, faint and filling in fast at the last house on the road. “Okay.”

“You said that already.”

“Not now, Thomas.” I tightened my grip on my staff until the carvings dug painfully into my palm. “Right. Pull up as close as you can to the front door. Sideways.” I gestured with my hand, like that'd help with the visual. “They've got to be hurt, or Hendricks and Gard would have come in by now. So I go in, get 'em, and we haul ass.”

“You want me to stay in the truck.”

“Yep. Get away drivers aren't really helpful when they're not in the car to make the get away. This is bound to get a little hairy, Thomas. You up for it?”

“I'm ready. But I don't like this staying in the truck thing. Makes me feel like the sidekick or something.”

“Well, if you like, you can jump out and face the evil monsters that want to rip off your face with me.” He considered, for a second.

“Why can't you have a nice, normal life like- well, no. Never mind. You're actually the most normal of my sisters.”

“That is a sad, sad commentary on our lives.” Thomas started to pull across the yard. “If anything attacks, go for the kill. These assholes are tough, and some of them know magic. Wizard level magic, so don't give them a chance. And if you do kill one a coin will probably come popping out of them at some point. Grab it, if you get the chance, but under no circumstances let it touch your skin. That's how they get you.” Thomas grunted and pulled his Desert Eagle out of the little compartment between the seats. “Ready?”

“Mmhmm.” The truck crunched to a stop and I jumped out, flinging the heavy door shut behind me. It was only two steps to the front door of the house, but they felt like miles, part of me convinced that at any second some eldritch horror was going to come and try to rip my throat out. Nothing happened and I banged on the front door, shouting for Hendricks.

The door swung open just enough for a shotgun barrel to be leveled at my head.

“Cujo, c'mon. It's me and we don't have time for this. The Denarians are here.”

“Prove you're you first.” A sensible precaution, but we really had no time to play around.

“It's me. Look, I don't know-” I was going to say that I didn't know what piece of proof he was looking for, but then inspiration hit. I leaned closer to the opening, so I could whisper. That also put my forehead against the barrels, but life was compromise. “I made Marcone a shield charm, carved it into the watch he always wears.” No one in Marcone's organization knew about that except for Gard and Hendricks. And me, I guess, if we were counting me as part of Team Mafia.

He hesitated, and then the gun swung away. Before I could say anything else, a huge, beefy hand grabbed the front of my jacket and yanked me into the house. I stumbled into Hendricks and he kicked the door shut behind me.

“Why the hell are you out here?”

“I'm looking for you. For Marcone. They took him, but he was alive when they did.”

“Yeah, I know.” He started to steer me up the stairs. “That's why you shouldn't be out here without some guys, Dresden. You think these assholes are following me and Gard for shits and grins? They got the Boss, but they need some leverage.” 

Gard was in the first bedroom up the stairs, a cot shoved against the outside wall so that she could look out the window there. She had her axe and a high powered assault rifle within easy reach and it looked like she was busy gluing her stomach back together. I shook my head and crossed the room to her.

“We need to get out of here.” I picked up the rifle and looked at the axe. I'd tried picking it up before, when she'd been working out. The fucking thing was heavier than it should be.

“In-” She gasped and I saw a thick, grey pink coil slide out from between her fingers. “In a moment, Harry.”

“Is that- are those your guts?” I was not going to throw up. I was a wizard, and I had seen worse. Still, I took a few quick, deep breaths and looked at the curtained window rather than at Gard herself.

“Yes.” She ground it out, followed by a very Norse sounding curse. It drew my attention and I saw that she was having trouble gluing that last inch of the huge gash in her stomach closed and holding her insides in at the same time.

“Fuck.” I set the rifle back down and sat carefully on the cot, taking the tube of...hells bells... “Super glue?” Sigrun pressed the bulge back inside and pinched the edges of the wound shut.

“Don't look at me, it works.” I applied a generous amount of the stuff and watched her face as I did. Pale, tired. They'd fought hard, I knew. I just hoped they could keep moving for a few more minutes.

“Will it hold? Enough to get you downstairs and into a car?”

“It will have to.”

“That's the spirit. Hendricks, you-” He had already moved across the room and slid his shoulder under Gard's, his other arm going under her legs. Cujo picked Sigrun up like she was a child and I could see the bite it took out of her to let him do it. 

“Give me my axe.” She held out her hand, teeth gritted against the pain. I took hold of the thing with both hands and hefted it, giving it to her with a grateful huff of breath. We started out the door, Hendricks leading the way.

A horrible, chittering shriek grated against my ears and I heard Thomas shout something that might have been my name. The window behind us exploded, glass flying. I hunched, instinctively, and felt the dull impacts against my coat.

“Go!” I shoved at Hendricks' back and turned, my staff coming up, power flitting through the runes in blue white light. Denarians, in their 'battle forms' have never been pretty. This one was still the ugliest version I'd seen. It looked like a bug, a giant preying mantis maybe, all black and green chiton, armored plates covering a very female body. It hissed at me, made that same eerie shriek again and launched itself off the cot, long scythe like claws stretched out for my throat.

I fell back, let the butt of my staff hit against the wall behind me and hoped it was close enough to make the jump.

“Fulgurus!” My hair went straight up as the electricity running through the house jumped from the socket a few inches to the left of my staff, through the wood of the staff and out the other end, hitting the Denarian in the face. Her skin cracked, blackening and smoke curled off of her. She screamed again, and dropped, scuttling along the floor, still coming for me. I jerked my staff off the wall and jumped to the side as she came. I swung my staff down at her, using it like a club. Mantis Bitch caught it with the serrated edge of one claw, pulling and twisting. I refused to let go and the force of her movement threw me across the room. 

My luck being what it is, I hit the broken window and kept going for another foot, slamming down into the roof of the front porch as my momentum failed. I scrambled at the roof but the shingles were slippery, frozen over and I skidded the rest of the way down until I ran out of roof and was free falling again.

I braced myself for the landing, but it never came. Huge, hairy arms caught me, pulled me in tight to an equally hairy body. A second Denarian. This one looked like the bastard son of a grizzly and a mountain gorilla. It bared sharks teeth at me and roared. The chittering of the Mantis chick came in response and then there was shouting and gunfire from inside the house. I twisted, shoved the end of my staff under Grizzly's jaw and wheezed out a forzare. It wasn't my most powerful blow, but at that close range? It worked.

He didn't even have the time to look surprised before I blew off the front of his skull, spattering myself in bloody, hairy chunks of whatever. He fell and I kicked away, landing on my ass beside him. I scrambled up, bracing myself against my staff and looked for Thomas. He was running for me, his saber out and stained black with blood.

“The house!” He changed direction, his skin glowing white with that weird inner light it got when he pulled hard on his Hunger as he did, moving faster than anything human could have. I followed, pushing myself as hard and as fast as I could. 

The scene that greeted us was oddly, grotesquely, beautiful. Sort of impressionist art, writ in blood and ichor. Gard was leaning against one wall of the hallway, one hand pressed to her wound, the other still wrapped white knuckle tight around the hilt of her axe. Hendricks was dropping spent shotgun shells to the ground and reloading with professional speed. Mantis Bitch was itty bitty chunks and long, spattering smears on the walls and floor.

“Have I told you two how awesome you are lately?” I punched Hendricks in the shoulder and he hissed, clearly hurting. “Sorry!” He didn't even give me the courtesy of a grunt before he moved over to Sigrun, his face softening around the eyes with worry.

“Thomas, did you see the third Denarian?” I looked around, trying to spot the corroded shine of a denarius among the mess. One relatively large chunk looked promising, so I leaned over to poke at it with the butt of my staff.

“Gorilla Grodd, yeah. I cut him up, sliced a dog collar off of him. He sort of...melted into this skinny little kid, Harry.”

“Dead?”

“Yeah. I cut- shit!” I yelped and jumped back, knocking into Thomas. The lump I was poking moved, little tiny limbs appearing, stretching out until it became a miniature version of the Mantis Bitch. All around us, the other lumps began to quiver.

“Time to go, folks!” I shoved at Hendricks, prying Gard's axe out of her hand and pushing it at him. “Thomas, help me here.” Between the two of us we half-lifted Sigrun, dragging her out to the Hummer. She made tiny, strangled sounds of pain the whole way, but said nothing. We handed her to Hendricks, who stepped into the tank, carrying her carefully, weapons lying within reach on the floorboard. Thomas ran for the drivers side and I jogged through the snow, back to the body of Shaggy the Grizzly thing. The denarius was lying on top of the snow, glittering and inviting. I flipped it off and yanked the handkerchief out of my pocket, scooped the damned thing up and wadded up the cloth around it. Mantis Bitch screeched again, my teeth vibrating with the pitch of it.

“Harry!” Thomas leaned out the window. I plowed my way back to the truck and climbed in. Thomas didn't even wait for the door to close, just slammed us into reverse, skidding two or three houses back before he threw us into drive and whipped around in a circle, taking out the mailboxes of the rest of the houses as he did so. “Where?”

“Back to the house. Gard needs medical attention.”

~

“Hey Squishy!” Thomas picked Maggie up and spun her around in a careful little circle. She squealed and kicked her legs, making 'mah' sounds at him. I hadn't figured out yet if she was trying to talk, or if she was still imitating the 'mwah' kissing sounds Molly made at her when she was trying to teach her to blow kisses. 

“Don't get her too riled up, Thomas. It's fucking midnight, she needs to be asleep.” I dropped the coin I'd picked up and the one Thomas had gotten off of Gorilla Grodd's collar into a lead box and put that inside the wall safe. I activated the circle built into it, ran my senses along the humming power to make certain it was working and then shut the things away.

“Unclench, Harry. She's not going to sleep – there's too much shit- stuff going on. Let me play with her, try to tire her out.”

“Thomas-” The door to the safe room creaked open. Hendricks took up the entire doorway, pale himself, but upright and mobile. I knew, because George had told me, that he had at least three broken ribs and several claw wounds that had been hidden beneath his jacket.

“She needs to be sedated, so they can stitch her up. She refuses to let them until she sees you.” I shoved myself out of the chair and moved to him.

“Thomas, you'll be okay for a few minutes?” He nodded, absently and blew a raspberry into Maggie's pink, fleece covered stomach. I left them to it.

“You look like shit.” Gard quirked a pale golden eyebrow at me and then shot a look at the doctor. He huffed and took himself elsewhere. “Tell me.”

“They knew where we were going. They knew how to hit us.” She took a quick breath, not very deep. “Call the White Council, get them to send an Emissary.”

“What? Why? This has nothing to do with the Council.”

“The Knights of the Blackened Denarius are signatories of the Accords, Harry. They have attacked us, a sovereign nation.”

“Who let the- no. Never mind. I forgot who wrote the damned Accords for a second there.” I bit my lip. “No. Like you said, they attacked a sovereign nation. They're still attacking. I can move to defend us. If there's a clear, ongoing, unprovoked threat, we can defend ourselves without calling in the law.” Gard and Hendricks blinked at me, stunned silence filling the room. “Hey, I've been down this road before. I learned the pertinent sections of the Accords.”

“You can only move to defend us if you are one of us, a member of the Baron's kingdom. As a Warden of the White Council, you can only call for an impartial Emissary.”

“Right. Only, I'm not making the call as a Warden. I'm doing it as Marcone's...me.” I shifted my shoulders, uncomfortable with the thought that had just occurred. “Technically speaking, I'm the Baroness of Chicago.” The idea settled in. “Yeah. I'm in the chain of command, I bore Marcone's heir, and I- he did ask me once, to marry him.” Sort of. In the theoretical sense. “I can make the case stick, Sigrun. If we go running to the Council, we're showing ourselves to be weak. That we can't defend our own land, our own people. We'll just be inviting more assholes to take shots at us.”

Sigrun studied me, and then nodded, weakly. Her eyes closed and her breathing eased as she laid back, trying to relax.

“Send the physician back in. I will need to be ready for this.” We left, and the doctor hurried back in, his assistant following.

“Dresden. Harry.” I paused, looking back at Hendricks. He pulled something out of his pocket, a dull, silver ring. It took me a second to understand what it was. Marcone's watch. The one I'd enchanted. My throat tightened and my stomach shriveled up on itself. I don't know why I hadn't- of course they'd gotten it off of him. But the sight of it there, rather than on Marcone's wrist- I took it from him. It was spent, the faint tingle of magic that had pulsed around it for years gone now. The runes on the inside were blackened, warped. 

I slid it onto my right wrist. It was too big and it slid around as I moved, but I felt a fraction better, having it there.

“They knew where we were going to be, Harry.”

“Yeah. Sigrun said that, but then-” I paused, thinking. They'd known where the first safe house was, before hand. They'd had to in order to set up the working that took the building down. “Someone told them. Who knew?”

“A couple of people. Me, Sigrun, George. But others could have figured it out. Known where he would run, if pushed while in that part of town.”

“Any likely suspects?”

“Beckitt. She wasn't in on any of that information, but she's smart, and she's got the girls. She could put it together, if she wanted. Torelli. Not the brightest bulb, but clever enough to keep his head so far. Maybe two or three other guys, but those are my top choices.” I'd stopped listening.

“Helen Beckitt?” My nails dug into my palm. “I thought she was gone. Marcone-” No. He'd never said he'd moved her out of town. I'd just assumed. “Dammit!”

“I talked to George. One of the first things we do after a major attack is count heads. She never showed up at Executive today. We can't spare the men to look for her right now, so she's in the wind.”

“I'll find her.” I turned and ran up the stairs for my lab before he could say anything else.


	6. Chapter 6

Glass makes a really satisfying sound when it's hurled against a wall or a floor. Or anything, really. It's one of the awesome things about glass. I hurled the third or fourth beaker against the far wall and listened to it shatter, the nearly musical tinkling of the glass a strange kind of beautiful, suiting my mood. Glorious, glittering destruction.

“Um. Boss? Harry? You remember that some of this stuff is highly combustible, right? One might even say...explosive.” I cracked my knuckles, a habit that made Marcone wince every time I did it, and kicked at a rolling stool. It skittered and fell over onto its side, little wheels spinning.

“That's why I only threw the empty ones, Bob.”

“It doesn't mean...anything. You know that. I'm sure that it's not- the Denarians have been around for a long, long time. They've got magical know-how out the wazoo. And that's a terrible place to have it, believe me.” I turned and growled at the skull. “Right, right. Not in the mood. I know. I'm trying to help here, Harry.”

“Then find me a tracking spell that will fucking work, Bob!”

“Unless you want to start carving animals and then maybe people up, you've run through my repertoire here.” Oh, I could think of one person I'd willingly carve up for a spell. The only problem being she was one of the people I couldn't find. I ran my hands through my hair and ground my teeth together.

“No, Bob. No. I need another idea then. Because I need to find Marcone, and I need to find Helen fucking Beckitt. And none of my spells are working. None. That's never happened before.” Which wasn't, strictly, true. I'd had all of my tracking spells fail before. When the person I was trying to track was already dead. And that wasn't a possibility. It wasn't.

“So you need an alternative, oh Pizza Lady.” I frowned.

“It sounds so bad when you say it that way.” Bob laughed at me.

“'Za Lady, then, whatever. Hello! If I have to hit you with the clue bat again...”

“Shut up, Bob. I've had a very long night, okay?” Dammit. Why hadn't I thought of that? I went to one of the windows and opened it, freezing air whipping in through the small crack. Leaning on the sill I went out a whisper of power along with Toot's Name. Not a compulsion or a command, of course. Just an invitation. 'Come here Watson, I need you.'

Toot shot through the opening a few seconds later. He'd been down in the greenhouse that was the Guard's permanent residence these days. His brilliant red streak of light was followed by a vibrant orange streak. Jax landed beside Toot on my worktable and the two of them saluted, tiny icicles crackling off of Jax's mohawk as he saluted with a little more force than strictly necessary. I returned a solemn look and pretended not to notice the elbow jabs the two exchanged.

They got along, in their own way. That way seemed to involve a lot of insults and pranks, but as long as no one got hurt I was staying out of it.

“Yes my Lady?” They said it at the same time, then glared at one another. I cupped my hand over my mouth and tried not to laugh. It was hard, but I felt as if once I let it out I would never be able to stop. Edgy.

“I have a job for the Guard. I need you to find two people for me.” I laid the photographs down in front of them. Neither of them looked at Marcone's photo, but they bent over the other, Helen, and studied it.

“We've been looking for the Baron, Harry.” Toot said it softly, not looking up. “Ever since we heard he'd gone missing.” Oh. I blinked, surprised.

“Have you-”

“No.” He heaved a small, deep sigh and straightened up. “Can we take the picture of the woman with us? I'll show it to all the members of the Guard still here. That way they can look for her too, and when ever anyone comes back they can get a look at it.”

“Sure.” He and Jax conferred for a second in the high pitched, rapid language I'd heard the little fae use before and then they left, carrying the photo between them. I closed the window behind them and turned to Bob.

“He's tough Boss. For a mortal, I mean. And smart. Marcone'll...he's not going to make it easy for them.”

“No. Which just means that they'll hurt him more.” I flashed on Shiro's body. On what he'd lived through and fought back the urge to hug myself, shutting my eyes tight to dispel the technicolor vision I had of Marcone's dead body. If they killed Marcone...no. I couldn't think about that. I couldn't. I could feel the heat start to build in my head as I did. The roar of fire sounding in my ears. I'd kill them all, and then some. Burn the city down around their heads. And I wouldn't feel a damn thing about it except for the rage and the grief.

“Harry?” I opened my eyes. “What I mean is, he's not going to do something stupid. He'll play them if he can. He's going to be okay. A little kicked to shit, because they're bad guys, but he's going to come out on top. He always does.”

“He's never been in a place like this before Bob.”

“That you know of. What, you think mad combat skills come by accident? You know he used to be someone else. Have a different life. Stop being so depressing for a second, okay?” 

“Nicodemus-”

“Is a tool. But he wants something, or Marcone'd already be dead. So pull your head out of your ass and get going.” I snarled at Bob and then laughed. It was a soft, cracked sounding laugh, but it didn't go on forever and it didn't escalate into madness. “You did tell Marcone about the blackened denarii didn't you?”

“Yes.” I'd had to explain, after he'd caught me sobbing over the empty hole in the floor of my lab. I'd dug Lasciel's coin up and given it to Michael the day before, but I'd still been mourning Lash. How do you not mourn someone who died so you could live? Even if she had originally been an evil fallen angel.

“So no worries there then. He won't take it willingly.”

“Not unless they find some way to pressure him into it.” Which would explain their yen to get to Hendricks and Gard. And the attack on the house. Would Marcone take up a coin to save Maggie? Yes. Hell, that was the same way Nicodemus had gotten me, and it hadn't even been my kid that time. Marcone would take up the coin and then kill everyone on the island within two seconds, but he'd still be infected. Beckitt's face swam in front of me again and I indulged in a very satisfying few seconds of imagining ripping her throat out with my bare hands. “Bob, I need you to get in on the searching too. There's a few good hours of night left. Head out, hit your contacts in the spirit world and see what you can find. No fucking around, got it?”

“I got it Boss. Stars and stones, you think I don't know how important this is? You are depressing when people get killed around you. I hate to think what you'd be like if we don't get Marcone back. Probably start wearing sack cloth and tearing your hair out...” The orange lights started to flow out of the skull. I picked it up and placed a kiss on the cool forehead on an impulse. Bob pulsed and laughed, one of the larger lights contracting and then expanding, like a wink before they flowed out under the door. He'd been trying to help, in his own way and I appreciated it. Bob was a really good friend, when he wasn't trying to convince me to let him turn Marcone and I into his own private porn.

“Okay then. Search parties away.” I scrubbed my hands against my face, trying to kick my brain into thinking of what to do next. Michael. I should call him. I mean, it made sense, didn't it? Denarians in town, doing evil things. And they were the coined-up kind, not depowered like Cassius had been. So the Knights should be on the job. Or maybe they wouldn't be. After all, so far all the Denarians had down was a lot of property damage and kidnap Marcone. Who wasn't exactly squeaky clean, morality wise. So maybe Michael's god wasn't going to do anything. This was why I stayed out of theological camps. It was such a pain in the ass to try and figure out if things with divine delusions were going to pitch in on your side or not. A knock on the door made me jump.

“Ma'am?” I yanked the door open and found one of the new kids, Josh. He looked like he belonged in high school, to be honest. But I'd seen his drivers license. He was twenty-three. He hadn't adjusted to the whole magic thing very well yet. Which was why he kept getting sent to interrupt me.

“What is it?” I tried not to snarl too badly at him. Probably another reason the other guys sent him.

“Mr. Carpenter and a Sanya, are downstairs.” Hah. Well there we were. Go team not an evil son of a bitch.

Michael and Sanya were talking to George in the front hall. I hugged Michael while George stared. I wasn't usually the huggy type and I think I may have broken his brain, a little.

“Harry!” Sanya scooped me up, crushing me against his chest. “It's good to see you my friend!” I patted his back and he let me down. “And I hear that you have a child. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” I looked from him to Michael. “Is everything okay? Charity? Molly? The kids?”

“They're fine, Harry. Charity took the children to Saint Mary's. Sanya arrived and-”

“I was going to California. The plane has a problem with it's engine and we are forced to land in Chicago. While I was waiting, I felt that I was needed here. So I called Michael.”

“Mysterious ways, eh?” I did my very best not to roll my eyes. The 'mysterious ways' thing was working on my side for once. I'd try not to mock it.

“As you say.”

“George, I've got the Guard and some other things going looking for Marcone and Beckitt. Anything on your end?”

“Nothing yet. The men are still out looking. Mr. Hendricks and Ms. Gard are unconscious, but doing okay. They're recovering.” George gave me a sly grin. “I slipped Mr. Hendricks a little something while he was hovering over Ms. Gard. It was the only way.”

“Good man, George. Michael, Sanya? We're going to go have a little talk. Let me know if anything comes in.”

“Yes ma'am.”

I took Michael and Sanya down to the safe room. Maggie was asleep, finally. On a sleeping Thomas' chest. It was cute as hell and I wished, once again, that cameras worked for me. I took a few seconds to try and commit the image to memory then I waved at Abby and ducked back out. No reason to chance waking Maggie up.

We wound up back on the first floor in a room whose original purpose I couldn't really guess at. Probably another bedroom, but it had been converted into a little meeting room. I'd have to talk to Marcone about that. Should have done before. Doing business out of the house was no good.

“Harry?” Michael's hand came down on my shoulder and it startled me. I'd spaced out. Shit.

“Sorry. Just...thinking too loudly.”

“It's okay. Tell us what you know.” We all sat, and I talked. There wasn't a whole hell of a lot to tell, in the end. Not a whole lot that was substantive in any case.

“You believe that the Summer Court is working with the Denarians?” 

“I don't know. I doubt it, really. It doesn't feel right, but maybe that's just because the idea terrifies the shit out of me? I mean, a human or a wizard with one of those coins is bad enough. But a sidhe? Would that even work? The sidhe, the fae, they don't have souls the same way that humans do.”

“Then the attacks on you by the...gruffs, wasn't it?” I nodded. “Seem far too coincidental.”

“It isn't. I was thinking about this on the drive back. Mab's moving around on this. She's got a grudge against whichever of the Denarians was involved on the attack at Arctis Tor two years ago. So she taps me to deliver the asshole to her and the way the sidhe courts work, that means that Summer has to move in opposition to her. Hence, the gruffs.” At least I hoped that's how it fell out. I really, really did not want another psycho faerie queen on my hands if I could help it. We'd barely managed to kill the last one, and she was a baby queen, as those things went. Facing Titania or Mab was...almost literally unthinkable really. I'd seen them, looked on them with my Sight. They were huge, implacable. Forces of nature. I shook the thought off. No use worrying about that right now. It wasn't my likeliest problem at this point any way.

“So the Summer Queen would help the Denarians just to get back at Winter?”

“Not help, exactly. And not just to get back at Winter. It's not like that. They have to move in opposition to each other. It's their nature and sidhe don't...” I waved my hands in the air. “They don't have or understand free will the same way people do. It's hard to wrap your mind around, I know, trust me. But especially on the Queens' levels. They're very limited in how they can act and what they can do.

“I'm not saying that Summer isn't taking this as an opportunity to even a score or two with me. I did kill her daughter, after all. I'm sure she'd love to see me ripped into tiny pieces. But I don't think that's the primary issue. She's after me because Mab's backing me. So, on top of it just being a generally good idea to kick Nic and company's asses quickly and get Marcone back, once this business is finished, Summer will have to back off because I won't be doing Winter's business any more.”

Michael and Sanya stared at me for a few seconds.

“How do you manage to piss so many people off all at the same time?” Sanya was grinning at me, amusement plain on his dark face. I rolled my eyes at him. “It is a very impressive talent!”

“Yeah, that's me. Talented all over.” I cracked my knuckles again. “The plan is basically this: Find Nicodemus and any Denarians he has left. There's at least Bug Woman, but I'd lay even odds he has Deidre with him again. Probably more.”

“The woman with the mantis form is named Tessa. She is Nicodemus' wife, though they don't tend to work together. Their methods are too different. But she will have her own subordinates.”

“How many coins are on the loose?”

“Seventeen.”

“And with the two Thomas and I grabbed that brings them down to fifteen possible.” Fifteen. Hells bells. Michael shook his head.

“Not all of them will work with Nicodemus or Tessa. They have their own infighting. I'm certain we aren't dealing with more than five or six.” I opened my mouth to point out how that wasn't all that much of a help, really, but he held up his hand. “Bad odds, still. But not quite so bad as if we were facing all of them.”

“Right. They'll only be a third as able to lay the smack down on us. Perfect.” I shook my head. “Level of difficulty aside, we find them, make them give back Marcone, and smash the shit out of them. Not necessarily in that order.”

“We can't go in planning to kill them, Harry. That's not our purpose.”

“I know, I know. The job of the Knights is to save the people enslaved to the Fallen. I get it, I do.” I cut Michael's protest off. “Anyway. I'm not asking you to go in there guns blazing. I've got my own army, and it's our fight anyway. I'm asking you to come as yourselves, that's all. If the opportunity presents, do your 'save yourself' thing. Don't be surprised when they don't take it, and don't expect me to offer them the same chance. I intend to kill s many of them as I can, I won't lie. I know that bugs you, Michael.” I looked at Sanya briefly. He just grinned. It bugged him not at all. “But if you weren't meant to be helping me, would you both have gotten the Almighty Page?”


	7. Chapter 7

“We've cleared the city and all the parts of Undertown that we have access to. They're not here.” George was slumped in visitor chair across from me. I drummed my fingers on Marcone's desk and glared at the universe. Bob had stumbled in at the last second with nothing to show for it either. I hadn't heard from the Guard, but I knew they were still out looking. For once, the entire house and grounds were completely empty of my little fae.

“They can't have taken him far. It's been less than a day.”

“You'd be surprised how far someone can get when they've got a goal in mind.” I think George must have heard my teeth start to grind together because he rushed on. “I agree that they won't have taken the boss far, though. His abduction was obviously not their only goal, given the assault on the house.” I'd ordered everyone to discount the fae attacks on me for the moment. We were going to treat them like tangential incidents since no Denarians had been involved that we knew of. “But we do need to move fast. If they can't achieve their other objectives, they may cut their losses and just move on with the boss.” Or they could cut Marcone's throat. I leaned back in Marcone's chair and rubbed my hands over my face, hiding the yawn that cracked my jaws open. “You should get some sleep.”

“I did.”

“A ten minute nap while Maggie was eating doesn't count Lady K.” I flipped George off, but it lacked any feeling. “There's nothing for you to be doing until we have some idea of where they're holding the boss and what the numbers look like. Go get some sleep, and I'll wake you up as soon as we hear anything at all. Or do I have to drug you too?” He pulled a little vial out of one pocket and waggled it in front of me. “I'll do it. You know I will.”

“Not if I hit you until you're unconscious you won't.”

“Harry.” I yawned again. Sleep. All I was doing was sitting around, staring and working up scenarios that meant nothing since we knew fuck all. I was reaching that state of exhaustion where I felt sort of nauseous, skin too tight and sweaty. I'd be useless if I didn't get it under control.

“Fine. Michael and Sanya are-”

“In the gym, last time I checked. We won't let them go anywhere without you. Sleep now.”

~

I opened my eyes onto a ceiling made of broad, hand carved wooden beams. A fire crackled nearby, warm and homey. My body ached happily, content. I rolled, my hands running over the soft fur I was lying on, until my fingers found skin, familiar. Without looking I found the scars that I knew would be there, the marks of a lifetime of blood and violence.

“Again? I'm flattered, Harry, but only human. Unlike some people I know.” Marcone's voice was low and thick. Sleepy. He caught my wrist and held it still, stopping my exploration. I recognized the thrumming exhaustion now. I slid one leg between his, pressing my thigh up against him.

“Maybe you just need a little encouragement?” I rolled us until I was on top, braced over him on my arms, staring down into his brilliant green eyes.

“I don't think so Harry.” I kissed him and it tasted like snow and ashes. I pulled back quickly, looking down at him again.

“John?” There were deep shadows under his eyes, strain etched into the lines of his mouth. Blood was drying in his hair. “What the hell-” Oh. I sat back, scrambled off of John. “What the hell is this?” John sat up and he was suddenly dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, looking like he belonged in the woods somewhere, doing wholesome things.

“If I had to guess, I'd say a dream. I've never had a...what would you call this? Shared dreaming?”

“Hells bells, John.” I looked down and found myself dressed in a long sun-dress. There were little sunflowers all over it. I frowned at it and tried to change it. Nothing. I gave Marcone a dirty look. “Must be your head then.”

“I have always wanted to see you in a dress like that. It looks lovely. All your muscle...” Something moved out of the corner of my eye. A shape. Grey and vague. Humanoid. I turned, trying to catch it and there was nothing there. But the feeling of being watched remained, eyes burning into my back. I pushed it away. It didn't feel malevolent, merely curious. It could have even been my imagination, or my own subconscious. This was a dream after all.

“Never mind. Can we focus?” We were in a stone cabin of some sort. It was simple, but lovely. Comfortable. The walls pulsed with veins of red-gold light, twisting into the shapes of vaguely familiar runes and then out into meaninglessness again. “Where are you?” Marcone rose and his stance was shaky. I slipped under one of his arms and helped him into a carved rocking chair. It looked like something Eb would have made.

“I'm not certain. I was unconscious, and when I came to I was on a boat. An island perhaps. I saw several old buildings, the remains of a small town I think. Nothing that gave a name or a hint at location I'm afraid.” He reached up to touch his bloodied ear. It looked like someone had bitten it, gnawed at it. “Maggie?”

“Safe. Everyone's safe except for you.” I ran my hands over his hair, the blood making it sticky and cold. The whole room was starting to feel cold in spite of the fire that I could still see and smell. It was as though it had stopped giving off heat. “How badly are you hurt?”

He shrugged. “A little blood, a little pain, some discomfort and the terrible shame of having run straight into a trap. I must be getting soft in my old age. But it's nothing I can't handle.” Marcone took hold of my left wrist, his fingers tracing the ridges and dips of the burns scars there. “I don't know how long we've got here, so I need you to listen to me.” I listened, and he told me everything that he knew. It felt like hours, but it wasn't, of course. All too soon the cabin started to shake, a roaring sound whipping around it. An animal sound, angry, primal and huge.

The cabin shattered around us, and Marcone was gone. My body was still shaking and someone was calling my name. I lashed out, shouting, and there was a scream of wind, a grunt and a thump. I woke up crouched in the middle of Marcone's bed, my hand outstretched and George struggling back to his feet against the far wall. Oops.

“Sorry George!” I climbed off the bed and helped George to his feet.

“'S okay. The little guys're back and they think they've got something.”

~

Jax was humming around the room, unable to hold still for longer than four or five seconds at one time. He and Toot had devoured a pair of peanut butter and honey sandwiches a piece. Not the preferred food of the fae, but they'd been exhausted when they'd come in and nothing worked better for restoring their strength. I'd asked for platters of the things, plus pizza, to be made up and sent out to the Guard.

Toot was pacing across the table, a pen almost as tall as he was in his hands. Beneath his feet was a map. He took his time. Time and names were sort of fuzzy concepts to the smaller fae. Toot couldn't tell me how long he had followed the little pixie who had found Marcone, but he'd gotten the geography down and was plotting out the location based on that. My clever little general.

“Here.” Toot made a circle on the map, making a definitive little stab when he'd finished and looking pleased with himself. I looked down at the map.

“Toot, there's nothing there. That's just lake.” Toot frowned up at me and his wings buzzed, raining sparks of light down around his feet.

“That's where he is, Harry. On the island right there.” Toot stomped his foot down in the middle of the circle. If I hadn't spoken to Marcone, however that had happened, I'd have been sure that Toot was wrong. An island that wasn't on the map though? Very strange.

“Okay, Toot. I believe you. Good job.” I rubbed my thumb across the corner of my mouth. “How was Marcone?”

“Tied up. The Baron looked like he'd been in a fight, my Lady. Blood and bruises.” His wings pulsed slowly. Jax, coming down off the honey high spiraled down and landed on my shoulder, grabbing my hair for balance.

“The woman was there too.” I tensed and rolled my eyes to try and look at Jax on his perch.

“Beckitt?” George and Hendricks shifted, becoming wary, on point. Gard was didn't show any reaction – I doubted she was surprised at all.

“Yes! She wasn't with the Baron. She was staying in a little tent on the same hill, and the men there kept her from going to the place the Baron is being kept.”

Because she'd probably try to shiv Marcone or something out of general principle.

“Alright then. So we need to assault an island, and you know that Nic has made some fortifications. Anyone here have any experience in planning amphibious assaults?” Hendricks gave me a look.

“No. Which brings up another problem. You said the boss told you they've got thirty of those tongueless goons on the island?” It says something about our lives that my story of the dream communication between myself and Marcone had been greeted only with interest in the tactical information and not an invitation to have my head examined.

“That's his count. Plus some of those weird guard dog creatures they had the last time they were in town. Nasty. And five Denarians, including the family Nic.”

“We don't have nearly the manpower for that.”

“We've got the entire Chicago mob, Cujo. I think we win on the numbers side of this game.”

“Yeah. Only most of them are plain old criminals, Dresden. Not trained fighters. Not soldiers. If you asked me how many guys we have that I'd take on an operation like this, there'd be ten names, including my own.”

“What about all those guys that we had in the Deeps? They were definitely military-esque.”

“And they all belong to Monoc, Harry.” Gard pushed herself out of her chair and limped over to look down at the map with the rest of us. She was still pale, but looking much better. Hell of a recovery time. “If we are going to do this, you will need to negotiate for similar men. And a better map.”

“It's not covered under our existing contract?” She shook her head.

“There's a clause that allows for temporary, secondary contracts, but the main contract is simply for me as an advisor and personal security.”

“Then set it up. Tell me who I need to speak to and let's get going.”

“I will make a call.” She moved out of the room, already a little smoother in her gait than she had been a minute before.

Gard came back a few minutes later. “He's agreed to meet with you Harry.”

“He who?”

“My employer, Donar Vadderung. And he would like you to bring Mouse.”

~

Apparently the closest Way to Monoc headquarters started near the wolf habitat at the zoo. Gard opened the Way with a small, ancient looking dagger, the runes glowing with power even though they were so old that they were nearly illegible. The path took us on a short hike through woods, dark and close, alive with things that moved though they were never seen before letting us out in Iceland. Or at least that's where Gard told me we were. I'd never had the pleasure, but it was cold enough for it, so I just nodded and tried not to let my teeth chatter. Mouse has always been about the journey and he panted happily beside me, his head turning this way and that, taking everything in.

A second Way took us across a frozen lake, the water visible beneath the ice as black as eternity. It was disconcerting – it was night in this part of the Nevernever, and the horizon didn't seem to exist. Like walking in space. Ten minutes along the path saw us at the base of a tree. It was massive, the roots sunk deep into the ice of the lake with no sign of anything like land beneath it. The trunk was as big as a building and it went on forever into the night sky. I thought I could make out the spreading darkness of branches and leaves against the starless black of the sky, but it was so far over my head it was impossible to tell for sure.

“This is one hell of a tree.”

“Don't touch it.” My hand stopped an inch above the bark. “I know it's alluring, especially for one such as yourself, but believe me, the price is higher than you can afford.” Gard swung her blade through the air again, near the base of the tree and we stepped through into a crowded basement. A dozen men stood there, the black barrels of their guns aimed steadily at us.

“Howdy.” I waved a little, smiling my most friendly smile. No one moved. Tough crowd. 

One of the men said something in a language I'd heard before, when Sigrun was a little tipsy, or when she was having a good time in the middle of a fight. I didn't understand a word of it, but Sigrun stepped forward and responded in kind. The man nodded and made a gesture. Everyone lowered their weapons, and stepped out of the way, some of them moved off to cots, others to folding tables where card games had obviously been in progress. With everyone spread out it became clear that the basement was really quite large. 

“This way.” Gard took my arm and we headed for a door set in the far wall. “Einherjar.” She shook her head as we passed a group that were playing some sort of complex drinking game with jugs of amber hued liquid. “They get bored if it's too long between battles. Like children.” Mouse whuffed and it managed to sound amused and agreeing.

We walked down a hallway, passing doors every few steps. 

“What's in there?” I nodded to one as we went by.

“Weapons.”

“And the others?” Gard shot me a look.

“You guys planning on invading an adjoining universe or something?” She laughed.

“This is just the first floor, Harry.” We reached the end of the hall and Gard pulled open an old fashioned looking elevator door, the kind with metal latticework instead of solid walls. The three of us rode up and I understood what Sigrun had meant. The first nine floors that we passed through were exactly the same as the one we'd come in on. Armories.

“Was your boss a boyscout or something?”

“One can only have as much preparation as one has foresight.” I hummed the Twilight Zone theme at her. “Please try and contain yourself Harry. At least until we get past the secretaries.” The elevator rumbled up through another dozen floors – a gym, an office filled with people who looked like lawyers – they have a look, you know they do, another floor that reminded me of a hospital, all antiseptic white and smelling faintly of disinfectant. A floor that was completely dark except for the distant flicker of candle light and soft chanting. A high-tech lab and one that seemed to be some sort of jail, the occupants of the cells only visible as vague shadows through the walls.

“Just how big is this place?”

“As large as it needs to be.” We shot up into office space that faced on an atrium. It was impressive, larger and more elaborate than any I'd ever seen before. There was a small stream and a waterfall. Who puts a waterfall inside of their office? The atrium went up for the next twelve floors and each floor was open to the beautiful space. Very, very pretty. We left the open floor and after another minute the elevator stopped on a floor that looked like the inside of a refrigerator.

Everything was made of stainless steel. The walls, floor, furniture, everything. Someone had thrown some magazines on the end tables, but they just made it look even more bizarre. Like an aliens idea of what a reception area should look like, only they hadn't gotten it quite right. There was a distinct lack of humanity to the place.

One wall bore Monoc's logo, a thick circle perfectly bisected by a straight line that emerged from either side of the circle. I found myself pressing my fingers to my cheekbone thoughtfully. The symbol always made me think of an eye, the straight line a blade cutting into it. But what the hell did I know? Maybe they just thought it just looked cool.

Beneath the logo crouched a long, sleek desk. Two women sat behind it, utterly identical from the close cropped cap of their feathery black hair to the sharp cut of their black suits. There was no color to either of them, their skin milk pale without even the hint of the blue of veins or the pale pink flush of human skin. The one to the right said something into a headset and we waited, Gard's hand on my arm holding me back and Mouses' weight against my legs, warm and comfortable.

The one on the left flexed her fingers against the desk and thin gouges appeared in the steel, curls of the metal peeling up behind her nails. I did my best not to say anything. Sigrun was tense, I could feel it humming through her. And I was here to ask for a favor, so pissing off the secretaries was probably not the best start to the relationship.

“What do you do if you have an itch?” Mouse whined and stepped on my foot. I'd tried, okay? Black, depthless eyes honed in on me and I smiled under their regard. 

“Harry!” Sigrun hissed and her fingers dug into my arm even through my coats protection.

“Oh, come on. If I didn't pick on them, they'd feel left out. It's a well known fact that I can't be scared of anything bigger than me for more than a few minutes.” The twins cocked their heads to one side at the exact same angle at the exact same time. It was a distinctly birdlike movement. And it made me more certain than ever as to who was in charge of Monoc. “Pollies want a cracker?”

I felt Sigrun smother her laugh. The women shifted somehow without moving, their attitudes changing in a way that I couldn't explain in terms of body or position. It was their attitude, their feel. They were maybe a few seconds away from taking a good close look at my spleen. A low buzz reached my ears and the right-hand twin tilted her head the other direction, listening.

“Yes sir.” She raised one taloned hand to point at me. “You will go in.” The needle tip of her nail shifted to Sigrun. “You will make certain the wizard does nothing inappropriate.”

“I've been house broken and everything, I promise!” One of them hissed, but I couldn't tell which.

Sigrun nodded and started hauling me around the desk to the logo behind them. She pressed to one side of the bifurcating line and it swung open. A door. The twins watched us as we went by and I waved to them. We walked down another long hallway until we came to a second set of steel doors with the Monoc logo set into them. These opened on their own when we were still several feet away.

The room beyond was also steel, polished until it shone with a light that seemed to radiate from within the metal rather than being a reflection of the overhead lights. I looked up and noticed that there were no overhead lights. Merely more glowing steel. Magic. You've got to love it. It's just so damn cool.

“Sigrun.” The man behind the desk turned his attention from something that resembled a computer screen but was made out of mist and light floating in the air in front of him. Like I said, damn cool. He was large, but not in a body builder sort of way. His was the build of a warrior, someone who had the muscle because they needed to use it, not just because they wanted to impress the ladies. Shaggy, dark grey hair hung into his face, drawing my attention to his eye. It was a brilliant, snapping blue and the vitality of it painted a sharp contrast to the black patch of cloth that covered the place his other eye should have been.

Gard dropped to one knee, no hint of self-consciousness or hesitation in the gesture. She believed that the man in front of us merited the action down to the very core of her being. I watched him rise and come around the edge of the desk. My every instinct screamed that he was dangerous, and I didn't think it was just because, once he came around the desk I realized he was quite nearly a giant. Vadderung had a good foot on me, maybe more. He made a small movement and Sigrun rose, coming to stand at an approximation of 'attention'.

“I've brought the wizard, my lord. May I present Harry Dresden, Warden of the White Council of wizards and Baroness of the Freehold of Chicago.” That sounded so freaky but I smiled and nodded politely.

“Baroness, this is Donar Vadderung, CEO of-”

“I know who he is, and what he's in charge of Sigrun, thanks.” Vadderung smiled as I spoke and shook his head in a movement that felt fond somehow. “And this is Mouse.” I nodded down at my dog. Vadderung smiled at Mouse who moved forward and offered his paw to the large man. Vadderung said something in a rolling tongue as the two of them shook and Mouse made his soft, grumbling noises in response. It was my turn to stare. If I hadn't known better, I'd swear they were having a conversation.

“Thank you, Sigrun. I'm sure your sisters would appreciate a visit.” Sigrun gave me a quick look and then left through the rooms only door. “I take it you believe you know who I am, Harry.”

“I've got a really good idea, yeah. Between you and me, and I don't mean any insult by this, but the corporate logo's a little too on the nose, if you know what I mean. The name isn't really helping you any either. But then, if you really wanted to be anonymous, you wouldn't be so blasé about it, would you?”

“Clever girl. I can see why your companion found you worthy.” I quirked an eyebrow and looked down at Mouse. He returned my gaze with doggy inscrutability.

“Mouse was something of an accidental acquisition, Mr. Vadderung.”

“Donar, please, Harry. Just because you didn't plan a thing doesn't mean that there wasn't a plan.” Vadderung moved back behind his desk and made a small gesture with his fingers. A chair grew out of the floor beside me, gleaming just as brightly as everything else in the room. “Have a seat.” I nodded my thanks and took the chair.

“Did Sigrun-”

“You want men, and assistance in rescuing the Baron. I will give you what you need in exchange for two things.” I shouldn't have been surprised, given who I was talking to, but I was anyway.

“What two things?”

“You carry with you a pendant, the oak leaf of the Summer Court. I would take that from you for collateral.”

“And the second thing?”

“A future favor. The time will come when I will need you to be in a certain place, to do a certain thing. When that time comes, I will call for you. I swear that what I will ask of you will not go against your own desires, will not endanger your people or your family.”

“That's one hell of an open ended demand.”

“Then say no. Go back to Chicago and try to take the Baron back without my men. Or appeal to the Accords and see how the arbitration falls out.” He smiled, and it was almost kind. “I cannot tell you which path to choose, Harry.”

I tangled my fingers in Mouses' fur and thought. We couldn't do it on our own. I trusted Hendricks to know what the hell he was talking about. And I wasn't going to call in some third party to negotiate with the fucking Denarians. They'd attacked us and we were going to handle this ourselves. My reasoning for that was just as sound as it had been when I'd initially made the decision. That left me with door number three. Owing a favor to a god. How could that possibly go wrong? It didn't matter. I needed his help, and at the least the terms were better than what I'd gotten from Lea and Mab.

I fished the silver oak leaf out of my jacket and tossed it to Vadderung. He caught it and tucked it into his own pocket.

“An excellent decision, if I may say so.” He picked up a phone receiver that I hadn't even seen before – it fit flush with the desk somehow and began to speak into it. I sat there and tried not to feel a sense of impending doom. Mouse thumped his tail on the floor and rested his head on my knee, whining softly. I guess he didn't have any better ideas either.


	8. Chapter 8

“I've lost my mind. Totally lost it. Gone. Poof.” The Water Beetle hit a wave and jounced up and then plunged down. I gripped the wheel really fucking tight and tried not to throw up. I hated boats. Hated. Only one good thing had ever come out of me being on a boat and that had been a huge accident. And I'd still burned out every mechanical doodad on the thing in the process. “In other words, this is a terrible plan.” The little hula girl I'd stuck to the dashboard when Thomas had refused my present just looked at me in the gloom. She wasn't falling for it. The plan was a good plan. I just didn't like it all that much.

There were no visible lights from the island as I approached. I cut the engine and let the boat drift a bit. According to the map Vadderung had provided there was a ridge just beneath the surface that almost completely surrounded the island. I just wasn't a good enough navigator to reliably get the boat through that gap. Not at night. Besides which, I wasn't supposed to know they were there.

I aimed the front of the boat at the island and started flashing the search light in Morse code. I did that a couple more times and then waited. This was the part of the plan I didn't like. I was a sitting duck out here and if the goons or whoever was watching decided to, oh, say, use a rocket launcher instead of calling Nic I probably wouldn't have enough of a warning to get my shield up and I sure as hell wouldn't have enough time to get the boat moving and get out of the way.

I dropped the anchor and waited. Maybe ten minutes later, lights came up on the beach. I could see dark forms moving but I was far too far away to make out any details and no sound carried over the water to me. Tongueless minions made for very quiet operations. I was watching the shore, trying to figure out if they were launching any sort of boats or, you know, aiming a big cannon at me when something whispered across my senses. 

There was a rushing sound, not quite like wings flapping and a shiver went up my spine. I turned in time to watch Nicodemus land on the deck of the Beetle, Anduriel's shadow wings wrapping around him and vanishing.

“Really, Harry? 'Hi Nic'?” He leaned against the side of the boat and smiled at me, the watery reflection of the boats lights gliding over his too white teeth, reminding me of a shark somehow.

“I was trying to be brief. Morse Code is really annoying when you try to use it for long conversations. So yeah. Hi. Nic. I figured you'd get the message. After all, how many people call you Nic?”

“Just the one. What can I do for you?”

“I want Marcone. Give him back and we can go our separate ways.” I gave Nic a small, friendly smile. Or, well, I meant for it to be friendly. I'm not sure I brought it off. Nicodemus laughed and there was a weird echo to it, as if Anduriel was laughing along with him.

“Harry, my dear girl, why on earth would I just hand my prize over to you?” He shook his head. “No. I think not.”

“Well, Nic, I was thinking that we could keep this as an internal affair. A little dispute between colleagues.” Surprise twisted across his features and then he settled back into a neutrally pleasant expression.

“'Colleagues'. Is that what we are?”

“We could be. I'm not gonna lie, Nic. I don't like you. Lash doesn't like you much either. It's one of the things that brought us together, really.”

“You're not helping your case.”

“Ah! But we're family, aren't we? Sort of. At least Anduriel is.” This was the tricky part, at least for me. I didn't have Lash in my head anymore, but I didn't think Nic could tell that. He tapped one finger against his chin and then he was in front of me, pressing me back into the steering wheel of the boat. His shadow moved against the lighter blackness of the night, drawing into him. Brilliant, glowing green eyes opened above Nicodemus' own gray ones. I dropped my gaze and didn't look into them. I wasn't sure if I could get drawn into a soulgaze with a fallen angel, and I really didn't want to take the chance.

“Family are we?” He leaned in close and sniffed at my hair. I felt the trickle of power that flowed out from Nic. “Lasciel isn't within you.” Anduriel's voice, coming out of Nic's mouth. Weirdly modulated, like someone speaking with crystals and glass for vocal cords and their throat.

“No. I gave her coin to the church and I haven't gotten it back yet. But-” 

“Enough.” Anduriel's shadow slipped into my coat and rummaged around. The tendrils came back out empty tentacled. He hadn't overlooked anything in my pockets, I'd felt him touch it all, even the pin from Mab, but he hadn't thought any of it was important . Which was interesting and something to file away for later. “Harry, where is your blasting rod?”

I heard what he said, but it didn't make any sense. I frowned at him and shook my head. Had he just slipped into ancient gibberish or something?

“I'm sorry, what?”

“Your blasting rod. Where is it?”

More gibberish. It tugged at something, like a drag against the edges of an open wound, but there wasn't any pain associated with it somehow. Just the feeling that there should be something there, though I couldn't even see the vague shape of it.

“I have no idea what you're saying.” Both sets of eyes narrowed at me and then there seemed to be some sort of conference between them. Finally, they stepped back and I straightened up, watching them. If Nic had slipped a gear it was really bad news. He hadn't been that great a guy when he was nominally sane. He looked at me for a long moment and then the top set of eyes winked out. I made a little face at him. That was just weird.

“Go sit in the back.”

“Excuse me?”

“It doesn't matter if you're telling the truth or not in this moment. If you're truly here because of the promptings of Lasciel's shadow, that is good. If you're here to try and trick me, then it doesn't make any difference because you've delivered yourself to me and you've done so without bringing anything that could harm me. Either way, I have what I want from you. So please. Go sit down and behave yourself.”

“Can't imagine why I keep getting the urge to kick your teeth in.” But I went. I left my staff in the wheelhouse with Nicodemus and settled into the thin cushion on the bench at the very back of the boat.

Nicodemus got the anchor up and drove the boat through the gap in the reef, up to a floating dock that had clearly just recently been built. There was a speedboat tied up on the other side of it and four or five zodiacs up on the beach. Nic docked, more or less, and threw a line to one of his men. 

“I don't need to tell you that if you try anything I'll take it out of your little Baron's hide, do I?”

“Nope.” I hopped from the boat to the dock ahead of Nic and looked down at him. “And I don't suppose I need to tell you that if you hurt Marcone there's nothing that will stand in the way of me kicking your ass.”

“I do so appreciate that we understand one another so well Harry.” He twirled my staff in a lazy maneuver and leapt from the boat, the arc of his jump taking him over my head to land lightly on his feet behind me. I clapped and rolled my eyes at him.

We crossed the beach and then walked through the edges of what used to be a town. An old fishing town from the looks of it, long abandoned and falling apart. It was empty – just pushing my senses out a little, Listening lightly, told me that there was nothing larger than a deer anywhere in the town. Still, it gave the impression of watching. The black windows, some of them with the jagged ends of glass still hanging in them, looked at us somehow, an itch between my shoulders.

That itch of awareness spread the further inland we got, even once we were out of the town and it was lost to sight through the trees behind us. Nic lead the way, four of the goons surrounding me, two in front and two behind. I felt a little flattered, honestly. We reached the base of a hill and started to climb, following a slightly winding path that had been cleared of snow. The path was old, the dirt packed tight with the weight of thousands of steps, and it led to a stone stair cut into the hill that looked as though it could have been there when Eb was born.

“Wouldn't this be faster if you just flew?” Nicodemus looked at me over his shoulder.

“What sort of a host would I be if I left you with the servants? Unless you'd like me to carry you up to the summit?” I pinched my lips together. Flying with Nic was not high on my list of things to try.

“Oh, no. Thanks, but no. I need the exercise.”

“Then I shall trudge along like all the other mortals.” And so we did. We climbed the steps and the woods pressed in closer and closer to the path until I could touch the trees on either side just by lifting my hands from my sides. It was nearly claustrophobic. If there had been leaves on the trees it would have been worse, entirely closing us in so that the sky would be lost to us as well. And the feeling of being watched continued. 

It took me maybe a dozen steps up the stairs before I hit on something that sent a new shiver down my spine. Aside from the feeling of being watched, there was a sense of familiarity. It went deep, so deep that it felt natural that I should know, on my next step, that I needed to step to the left a little because the stone was loose and I would trip if I didn't. I ignored that feeling, that knowledge, and stepped where my instincts told me I shouldn't. The stone shifted under me, just as I'd known that it would and I tripped. I caught myself and kept of going.

Creepy and more than a little distracting. I felt like I knew this place even though I was damned certain that I had never been here before in my life. Hells bells, I hadn't even known the island existed until earlier that day. I shoved it away, set it beside the question of what the hell was watching us and concentrated on the plan and Marcone.

We reached the top of the hill and I stopped, staring. There was half of a lighthouse standing there, a bonfire that must have been lit while we were on our way up illuminating it enough for me to see that the top stones were cracked and burnt. The top was absolutely gone, and one side of the lighthouse had fallen as well, leaving the inside open to the elements. It looked like it had exploded, maybe been struck by lightning. Freakish, unnatural lightning because it had been built well. Solid and immovable. A refuge from the rest of the world. It had taken a lot to even hurt it, let alone knock it down. At its feet there stood a little house and I knew, just as I'd known about the step, that it was built from the stones that had fallen from the lighthouse. I knew that the roof had partially fallen in, but that other than that the house, the cottage, was reasonably intact. And I knew that it was the stone cabin from my dream, rebuilt and claimed as my own. That knowledge clicked into place and just felt right. This was mine, like the Beetle or my office, or my apartment, only more so. Mine in a way I didn't entirely understand.

“Come along.” Nicodemus called back and one of the goons behind me prodded me in the middle of my back.

“Don't do that.” I didn't turn to face him. Just stayed still a very deliberate minute before I started walking toward Nicodemus' retreating form.

Deidre and a tiny woman were waiting for Nicodemus. Someone had taken stones from the base of the lighthouse, things that hadn't been reused and built a little platform and a rough sort of throne. I laughed as Nic started to climb up and he stopped, his expression quizzical.

“Really? I mean, I guess it's a classic, but come on. Is there a black cloak around here that you could put on first?” I paced away from my guards and looked around the open ground. No Marcone. The door to the cottage was closed, but I didn't think he was in there either. There was that same feeling of knowing that told me none of the Denarians had been able to enter the cottage. Something about it kept them out. That left the inside of the tower. The shadows were too thick for me to get a good look though. “I just feel ridiculous talking to someone with that overblown an ego.”

Deidre stalked to the edge of the platform and jumped down, pacing to within arms reach of me.

“Do not speak to my father that way.”

“I'll talk to Nic however I like.” There'd been enough time, I was sure. “I want to see Marcone.”

“Say please, Harry. It's just good manners.”

I flipped Nic off, which gained me a bubbling hiss from Deidre and said, “Please.”

The shadows in the tower moved and I could see Marcone against the curve of the wall. He was tied to a metal ring there with ropes and the whole left side of his face was a mess of blood and bruises, swollen so that that eye was almost lost in the swollen flesh. But his eyes were open, and aware. Watching me, his face closed down in the expression I knew meant he was pissed because he was worried. His knuckles were scraped, the wounds starting to heal. He hadn't gone down without a fight. Good boy. I smiled and waved.

“Hi honey.”

“Harry.” Marcone's voice was dry, but strong.

“Now then.” The shadows moved across the ground and swarmed around Nicodemus, forming a black nimbus around him. “Why don't you come over here and tell me what you're willing to pay to get the mortal upstart back?” Movement in the woods surrounding the clearing caught my eye and I stepped forward, drawing a step ahead of Deidre. There'd been enough time, I was sure of it.

“I'm not going to give you anything, you prick. I'm going to offer you this deal: give me Marcone, and I won't kick your head in. It's simple enough.” Nicodemus looked at me for a second and then shook his head.

“I'd hoped you'd be more reasonable, Harry.” He waved a lazy hand at Deidre. “Bring her to me, darling.”

Deidre grabbed my shoulder, her slender fingers starting to dig into my shoulder and shoved, trying to knock me off balance. I whipped around and grabbed her wrist before she could pull it back. My lips pulled back and I snarled as I twisted the way Murphy had shown me, Deidre's mouth dropping open in pain as I broke her wrist and then kept going, taking her off balance and dropping a little, kicking out at her right knee. The joint snapped, a wet crunch that I could feel all the way up my body, her leg bending the wrong way. The woman dropped, hissing and screaming, a ripple of power coming from her as she started to transform into her Denarian form.

I kicked her in the face and ran toward the tower. Nicodemus shouted, and the men around me jumped into action. I slammed my elbow into the gut of the one closest to me and he staggered back, giving me enough room to swing at the next guy. He ducked in time and I just clipped him, not enough to phase him. He caught my arm and pulled, yanking me off balance almost the same way I had Deidre. 

He didn't notice the werewolf behind him until it had its teeth in his shoulder and was ripping a chunk free.

Things got chaotic from there. I don't care who tells you what, in a battle, you can only ever keep track of yourself and your goal. Everything moves too fast for a play by play. I caught the third goon that had been chasing me and slammed my knee into his balls, turns out Nic doesn't take those with the tongue, and then drove my clenched fists down on the back of his neck. He crumpled and I had a second to look up and see that the rest of the Alpha's were there and busy.

Georgia and Billy were tag teaming one of those freakish dark hounds that Nic kept around. I hadn't even seen the damn thing before. The others were also fighting in pairs, moving too fast for me to identify who was who.

Nicodemus and the small woman were gone, and I could see my staff leaning against the side of the throne. The Mantis woman suddenly jumped down from one of the trees, charging across the field and I cursed under my breath. Gunshots started downhill and the woman turned her head for a second. I took the opportunity to throw up a veil and keep hauling ass. Luckily, I sucked less at veils than I had a year ago, and with the wolves ripping goons and monster things apart and the men from Monoc finally, finally pouring into the clearing Tessa had other things to worry about than keeping track of me.

I clambered up the steps and reached for my staff.

Greasy, nauseating magic ran across my senses and I paused. It felt familiar. The blast of Hellfire passed maybe an inch from the tips of my outstretched fingers and incinerated my staff along with the stones of the throne behind it. I jumped back and my veil faltered as I tumbled off the edge of the platform. The melting stone hissed to the frozen ground beside me and started to melt into the earth as well. Holy shit.

Something that looked almost like a man jumped over the platform and landed a few feet away from me. It was gray, with what looked like bony spines coming out of its too thin body. It lunged at me and I scrambled back on my ass, avoiding the first blow it swung at me. While it was yanking its arm from where it had driven it into the ground I pulled myself together and threw my hand out, shouting “Forzare!”

It didn't dodge my spell, it just yanked it out of the air and dissipated it with a single word. Dammit.

“Childish tricks.” The creature hissed and then a spell caught me, writhing bands of black energy that hit me and threw me back into the ground, one of them wrapping around my throat and squeezing. The gray Denarian scuttled over to stare down at me and I tore one hand away from the thing at my neck to claw at him. If I could break his concentration the spell would vanish.

The lightning blasted tower filled my vision, the night sky behind it thick with clouds. Oh, hell. This was such a very bad idea. My vision started to go black around the edges and I knew I didn't have a choice. I grabbed at the thing's wrist and wheezed out Fulgurus. The gathering storm whirled in front of my eyes and then energy snapped through me and I could taste tinfoil, my vision going white.

My eyes cleared slowly, bright flashes of color coruscating back and forth through my field of vision. The spiny Denarian was twitching on his side, smoking. I still had a hold of its wrist and lightning was crackling around my clenched hand. I yelped and let go, shaking my hand. The lightning stayed, trailing afterimages as I moved. It was bright, almost a purely silver light and it wasn't burning me, which was a really pleasant surprise.

The Denarian was starting to shake himself out of his convulsions and the fight behind me was getting noisier. Something exploded and the hill shook, nearly sending me flat on my face. I staggered and kept my feet, but more, smaller explosions followed and it was like a wave of violence that was getting set to crash over me. I could smell the heated metal of the guns that were barking out in rapid bursts, the deep, nauseating copper taste of blood on the air filled my mouth. Every time I took a breath it burned.

I looked down at the twitching form and made my decision. I didn't have time for this. I pried a rock up from the frozen earth and slammed it down into his head. I did it again and again until he stopped twitching. I stood back up, breathing hard, my back burning and dropped the stone. Then I turned to the side and threw up. 

Movement, low to the ground, drew my attention. There was a coin. I recognized it as one of the denarii. As I started to move toward it, to pick it up and drop it into a pocket, the movement repeated itself. Roots. There were roots moving, wrapping around the Denarius and...hells bells. They were dragging the thing into the earth. It only took a second or so, faster than I could have crossed the space and yanked the thing away, and then it was gone, the earth only a little churned up to even show that anything had happened.

“What the hell?” A scream cut through the air, something that sounded terribly predatory and I jumped. Okay. Okay. The fucking island ate a Denarius. Very weird. But Nic was still running around and he had Marcone. I ran for the tower.

Marcone was there, slumped against the wall, his arms no longer tied. I felt a long moment of absolute terror and then I was beside him, pulling him over to lay on his back. He was breathing, but someone had hit him hard, a bruise already forming on the unmarred side of his face.

“I'm really very disappointed in you, Harry. You keep making this so hard on yourself.” Nicodemus swooped down from somewhere above me and I barely had enough warning to turn to face him, half-rising out of my crouch. He hit me at what felt like a hundred miles an hour and I grabbed at him. We went flying through the air and hit the other side of the tower, bits of rock and dirt raining down on our heads. I cursed and struggled, but he was strong and we rolled on the ground together.

Nicodemus wound up above me and he grinned, driving his forehead down and into my nose. I screamed so I wouldn't throw up again and dug my fingers in harder, driving at his throat with my teeth. His wings pulsed around us and we rose, my head spinning with grotesque pain. He was going to try and slam us into the wall again.

I twisted, knocking him off balance as much as I could and felt the edge of the wall scrape over the back of my coat as we shot out through the open side of the tower. My fingers found the edge of his wing, solid enough beneath my hands though it was so cold it burned, and I yanked. Nic swore and we went plunging back to the ground, rolling down a small slope. The world spun, and the trailing end of the noose Nicodemus wore slapped into my face.

I let go of his wing and his shoulder and snapped my hands around the noose, sliding until I found the knot. We kept rolling as I jerked and twisted the rope, driving my knuckles up into his throat, the noose finally doing its job. It was like I'd stuck a live wire into Nic's spine. He went stiff and Anduriel's wings started to beat at me even as Nic's hands went for my face, my throat. I tucked my head in, down under his chin and held on.

We spun, there was a rough bump as we went over some rocks and then we were falling. I screamed as we fell, an instinctive, unstoppable thing. We'd rolled off the edge of the goddamned cliff! Nic tried to fly, but his movements were spastic, torn between fighting me and gravity. The fall lasted forever, and it still wasn't long enough. Nic went limp a split second before we hit the water and the impact jarred through me, making me lose my grip on the rope. I sank, the cold of the water driving into me like a fist.

My arms and legs didn't want to work, immediately numb, but I made them move. I needed to reach the surface. I needed to get out of the water or I was dead. My head broke into open air and I pulled in deep lung fulls of cold, cold air. Something flashed overhead and then people were shouting. Great. But by the time they got back down the hill and got into boats, I was going to freeze to death.

I started to swim, my limbs sluggish and my head full of stuffing. Something splashed into the water behind me and I turned to look. Something beneath the water was glowing, illuminating a patch of lake maybe three feet across. It was just enough for me to make out an almost human form, glowing weirdly beneath the water as it kicked, diving deeper into the water. There was the gleam of metal on the surface, long, flat ribbons of it and then they were gone. Deidre was going to fetch Daddy.

Oh, oh shit. I tried to swim faster.

There was a loud, thumping sound, over and over, a heavy wind that drove the water around me down and out in a perfect, crashing circle. Something dropped into the water just in front of me. I tried to jerk away, thinking it was Tessa the Mantis lady and wound up swallowing half of Lake Michigan.

“Dresden! Put the harness on!” My eyelids scrapped down over my eyes, tiny ice crystals forming inside of them I was sure, and I craned my neck back, painfully. Marcone's helicopter, with Gard leaning out, a megaphone in hand. I remembered the emergency winch the thing came equipped with and my brain decided to put everything together. My numb fingers found the harness where it was floating and I managed to get into it. I had to watch myself buckle the snaps. I couldn't feel anything.

There was a period of floating, my chest tight and I felt as though I was slowly spinning. Then there were hands and I was flat on my back, someone piling blankets on me. The ground tilted to one side and it was just a little too much. I managed to turn my head when I started to vomit, and that was it. Lights out.


	9. Chapter 9

"One day we're going to have a civil conversation and you won't have to have the shit kicked out of you first."

"Don't hold your breath." I opened my eyes to the cavernous roof of the Raith Deeps. It said something that that had become my default image for the inside of my mind, I was sure. Deep, dark and full of monsters. "It's tradition by now, and you know how I hate to break tradition."

I was lying on the altar where Lord Raith had tried to sacrifice Thomas. I pushed off and sat up, blinking in the dim lighting. My...other me was sitting on Lord Raith's throne. She smiled and twirled a golden helmet around in her hands, the light brighter where she was so I could see the tiny, wicked looking horns that curled off of the thing. It went with the rest of her outfit, which reminded me of the 'armor' Valkyries wore in opera.

"Subtle. I wouldn't let Gard catch you running around in that." I looked around out of habit. It was just the two of us. That shouldn't have been disappointing, but it still was, every single time. "That is a ridiculous outfit."

"I beg to differ. And Sigrun would get a kick out of it. Stop being such a kill joy."

"Whatever." Other Harry plopped the helmet on her head and leaned forward. The distance between us was gone by the time she finished the movement and we faced each other from less than a foot apart.

"You need to wake up and get back on the island."

"No. Sure, waking up. I'll do that eventually. But back to that island? No. It's creepy and evil. Did you see it eat the denarius?"

"I did. Doesn't mean it's an evil island. You have to go back."

"Why, exactly? We've got Marcone. I don't want to be there when Deidre drags Nic back up. I really don't think she's going to take him being dead well."

"Assuming you managed to kill him. That's not an assumption I'm comfortable with. Nic's a bit of a cockroach." She reached out and tugged a bit of hair out of my eyes. "Back to the island. Because you're not done there yet."

"I feel very done. Very, very done. I fell off a cliff. Did you miss that part?"

"It was a little cliff, and you've just bruised a rib or five." She held her fingers an inch apart. “Little cliff. Look, here's the facts: you're still on the job for Mab. If you don't deliver...well, first of all, she's going to be pissed. And she'll squish us.” Evil me clapped her hands together about an inch from my face. I jumped and she laughed. “Secondly, if you don't finish the job for Winter, unless Mab...recalls the orders or whatever, you're going to be dodging Summer assassins for the rest of your life. Which won't be very long at all. So we need to get back there and deliver unto Mab a Denarian body. And, more importantly, there is still Beckitt." She smiled, and it reminded me of Marcone's tiger grin. I passed a hand in front of my eyes and sighed.

"Maybe she got shot by someone else."

"I don't think so. She's a sneaky little bitch. And you know if you leave it to Marcone he'll...you can't trust him to do what needs to be done here. Anyone else and she'd have been dead years ago."

"John's irrational about Amanda."

"And that extends to Mummy dearest. She needs to be dealt with before Marcone gets his feet under him."

"I can't just-"

"Oh for fuck's sake, please, do not try to lie to me. You can. You will. You planned on it. You don't have to like it, but you know it's what needs to be done. So wake up and let's get it over with."

"I don't like you very much."

"Not a surprise." She stood and her clothing changed. The bright, mock armor was gone, replaced with black clothing. Black boots, black camo pants, black shirt. My jacket hung from her shoulders, cradling her in deeper shadows. It gaped open just enough to show the holsters she had on, crossed over her hips like every movie gunslinger ever.

“You look dangerous. Like the villain.” She shrugged.

“We are dangerous. And it's our story, so black clothes or not, we still have to go be the hero.”

~

This time when I opened my eyes, I was staring up at the night sky. The moon and starlight had to fight to break through the cloud cover, but they were there, just enough to see by. My breath puffed out in front of my face in a white cloud. I stayed still for a minute and tried to assess the damage. My face still ached, but I was used to that by now. Everything hurt in that aching, you'll feel the rest of the pain later kind of way. Right. I closed my eyes again and evened out my breathing.

Over the years I'd learned a few techniques to push away pain and fatigue. They all worked to one degree or another, but the more pain effective they were the higher the cost in the end. I knew one that would let me run around and kick ass with a broken arm and not notice it. That was the down side too. It was a lot like being on really good drugs - lots of important things, like your body telling you you've driven it to the breaking point just don't get through. I used one I'd learned as a kid. It didn't take all the pain away, but it muted it just enough that I could do what I needed to do without collapsing into a twitching lump.

Eventually I sat up. The world spun a little faster than usual for a second and then it settled down into normal patterns. Leaves and dry branches crackled to my right and I spun, my shield coming up before I had time to think about it. Gard continued to brush the detritus off of her pants, her movements unconcerned. There was no sign to betray that a few days ago she had been half-gutted. One hell of a medical plan.

"Where is everyone?"

"Clean up duties, or already off the island. We sent Mr. Marcone and the critically wounded back to the mainland on the helicopter. Everyone who's not in danger of dying is being transported by boat."

"Dying?!" I flashed back on Marcone. He hadn't looked that hurt, but there could have been internal injuries I couldn't see. Panic brushed against me, but it couldn't penetrate the dulling layer of distance I'd shoved between my mind and everything else. "Who's dying? Is John-"

"No." She snorted. "As if I'd tell you like that. He's hurt, but nothing life threatening. It just made sense to get him as far away as possible as soon as possible and there was room on the helicopter." I got to my feet, shaky at first, but then steady. I turned my head and there was a delay while my body and brain got back together and decided to start cooperating fully. “Some people were hurt, yes. But they're being taken care of.”

"Right. Right." Marcone was safe. Gard would have said if Michael or the Alphas were hurt. And Hendricks was too much of a badass to ever get hurt. So, first things first then. "Do we have Beckitt?"

Gard watched me for a moment and then nodded. “We do. She was captured trying to get one of the boats started. I've got her under guard in the lighthouse tower.”

“Good. Good. Let's go there and have ourselves a little talk.” 

The clearing Gard had laid me out in was maybe half a mile away from the top of the hill. It wasn't a long climb, or a hard one, and we reached the remains of the battle in just a few minutes. Monoc's men were busy, breaking down the equipment left behind by the Denarians and taking it with them. They'd keep what they could use and dispose of anything else.

They were also disposing of the bodies. I didn't really want to know what they planned on doing with them, so I just didn't ask. I didn't care. As long as they were gone and couldn't come back to bite us in the ass, literally or otherwise, I didn't care where they went.

Except for one. I spotted one of them men hauling Gray and Spiny's body, which was no longer either gray or spiny, toward the stack they were building. I knew it was the right Denarian because his head was still smashed in. Gross, but fairly effective as an identification technique since all the other bodies had sword, bullet or fang wounds.

“Hold up! I need that one.” A dozen heads turned toward me as I picked up the pace into a light jog. The soldier who had Spiny dropped the body and headed back into the woods to pick up another one. “Thanks!”

“Harriet?”

“Just a sec.” I fished around in my coat until I found Mab's evil hat pin and pulled it out. It shone in the moonlight, a little too brightly. The pin, for all its length and flexibility went into Spiny easily. Knife, butter, etc. Pick your own cliché. I hardly had to push at all. Which was nice, because it meant I could back off from him really quickly. He was already starting to stink, like the decomposition was going just a little too fast to be normal. Nature catching up with him, like it had with Cassius, maybe.

I wasn't sure what to expect. Maybe a little vortex, a mini black hole that would suck the body up and deposit it in Arctis Tor or where ever Mab conducted her science experiments at the other end. Frost, a thin, thin layer at first spread out across his body in fast motion, the ice crystals growing and crackling as we watched. It was almost pretty, once the ice had grown thick enough to distort my view of the corpse inside.

The ice groaned, the same sound that could be heard right before chunks of glaciers fell off into the sea and a second later the man shaped block of ice exploded. I threw up a shield between it and myself, making sure Gard was behind me, but it wasn't necessary. The ice burst into a tornado of snow that whipped around for a second and then seemed to collapse into itself, gone between one breath and the next.

Sidhe. Even when they're doing something horrific, they have to be so damned showy about it.

“Right. There's that out of the way.” Hopefully Mab wouldn't be too pissed about the whole, not so much alive bit. I dropped the shield and turned to Gard. “She's in the tower?”

Gard was still staring at the place where the snow-nado had disappeared. I had to repeat the question before she answered me. We crossed the rest of the clearing, dodging the guys doing their work.

There were two men guarding the tower. The one watching the approach spoke quietly with Gard while I waited, peering into the darkness. I could just make out Beckitt against the far wall. She was seated on a camp chair someone must have found for her and her head was back against the stone, her eyes closed. A part of me wanted to just kill her then and there. It would have been easiest.

I walked over to the man who was watching Beckitt and stepped into his peripheral vision.

“Hi. Do you speak English?”

“Yes.” He flicked his eyes at me, dark blue I thought, and then back to Beckitt. I liked him already. He wasn't letting his attention wander, even though Beckitt didn't look dangerous at all.

“Great. Because I don't speak Monoc-ian. I would like to borrow your gun. Ordinarily I'd have my own, a really nice .44, but I had to leave it in my other pants. There was a whole...thing. Where I had to look like an idiot. So I'm gunless.” I smiled my best 'harmless if kooky' smile and held out my hand. He glanced at it and then called something back to either Gard or Outward Facing Guard. It was Gard who answered him at any rate.

He unholstered his gun and handed it to me, still never really taking his eyes off of Beckitt. Murphy would have been able to tell me what kind of gun it was, who made it, the history and all the manufacturing specs. It wasn't a revolver, and it wasn't distinctive enough for me to recognize it without looking it over more carefully. I popped the magazine out, saw that it was full and snapped the mag back into place. Then I double checked the safety and stuck it in a pocket. I hoped it wouldn't jam. I walked over to Gard and the other guard.

“Can we get some privacy? Sigrun?”

“Alrek. Yngvi.” Both men saluted Gard and left us. They didn't go far, just enough that they weren't within ear shot. Gard stayed a few steps behind me as I walked into the shadowed interior of the tower. “There's a small camping light.” I saw it sitting in the middle of the tower's floor and stopped long enough to turn it on. The electric light flickered uncertainly for a few seconds before it decided it was going to work and burned steadily.

“Beckitt. Helen.” I stopped well out of reaching distance from her and waited. She straightened slowly and opened her eyes to regard me with the same cold emptiness as she did everything.

“It's about time, Ms. Dresden. I was beginning to think you weren't coming.”

“I had other things to do. Drop kicking demons, vacuuming, that sort of thing.”

We looked at one another over the distance and I felt my stomach roil, my skin prickling with a cold that had nothing to do with the temperature around me. Something, some shade of hesitation, must have shown in my face, because Helen smiled her imitation of a smile.

“Are going to stare at one another all evening, or are you going to do what we both know you came here to do?”

“I-” I clenched my fist against my leg, my short nails digging into the palm of my hand. “For fucks sake, Helen, what were you thinking?”

“The same thing I have been thinking since the day he took Amanda from me, Ms. Dresden. I never stopped wanting to destroy him.”

“I get it, I do.” I shook my head. “No, I don't. I mean, I don't understand how you feel. I got a little of it, in the soulgaze, but that's not- I can't imagine the pain you feel. I don't want to. But dammit Helen, how in the hell could you involve Maggie? I don't understand how you could feel the pain of having lost your own daughter and-”

She laughed and shook her head.

“You're a fool.” Beckitt leaned forward, resting her cuffed hands on her knees. “I want Marcone dead. You help him, you feel something for him, though I'm not certain creatures such as yourself can love in the same way humans can. In the way I used to. To remove Marcone, I would have to remove you. That is simple. But your daughter.” Her face twisted into a nearly normal expression of deep, pained longing. “Margaret was never going to be hurt.”

My mouth went dry. I swallowed down the rising nausea and took a step closer to Beckitt.

“You can't be serious.”

“It was my part of my price. Mr. Archleone had no desire to seize Marcone's power here in Chicago, so I would keep that. And Margaret. A daughter to replace the one he stole from me.” She rolled her shoulders in a negligent gesture, but it was belied by the tension in her body. “It seemed only fair.”

“You're an idiot.” Her eyes snapped up to mine, a flare of anger before the cold calculation seeped back in. “What in the name of hell made you think- Nic wasn't interested in killing me and Marcone. He was fucking recruiting. Even if he actually let you take my daughter, the very first fucking thing either one of us would do after we took a coin would be to hunt your dumb ass down and take Maggie back. And I don't think for one second Nic was going to let you take Maggie. She's too good as a...a...fucking wedge, a hostage.

“I can understand your hate for Marcone. I can. You think he took Amanda from you, and I know what I would do to anyone who ever hurt Maggie. I even get that you needed to take me out. You're right. I'd never stand by and let you hurt Marcone. Witness, this.” I threw my hands out to encompass the island and everything that had happened. “But you put Maggie in danger. You nearly handed my daughter over to fallen angels! That's...I can't. I just can't.”

“As I said. Do what you're here to do. There's nothing else that needs to be said, is there?” I pulled the automatic out of my pocket and took the safety off. Helen got to her feet and stepped to one side, away from the chair. “I'm not sorry for any of it Dresden.” Her eyes never left my face, never wavered. I brought the unfamiliar gun up and steadied my aim.

“I am.”

“As I said. You're a fool.”

The gun didn't jam.

I gave it back to Alrek on my way out of the tower. I couldn't read the expression on his face any more than I could read Gards. “Bring her body back to Chicago. We'll bury her with-” Not Amanda, because Amanda hadn't been allowed to finish dying yet. I wasn't sure if Mr. Beckitt had been buried beside his daughter's empty coffin.

“We'll take care of it.” Gard slid an arm around my shoulders and it hurt. I gasped and stumbled. My concentration had fallen away at some point and the pain was coming back. Gard caught me and held me up.

“You did well, Harry. It was a good death.”

“There's nothing good about any of this Sigrun. And now, I want off this fucking island. Please.”


	10. Chapter 10

“They're just bruised.”

“So you're a doctor now too, on top of being a wizard?”

I glared down at the top of Sigrun's head and tried to take a deep breath. Fiery pain stabbed through my chest, worse on the right side and I smacked the back of my head into the wall of the boat.

“I'm as much as doctor as you are.” It hurt to talk, but it would have wounded something in my soul if I couldn't snark.

“I'm sorry, which one of us was gluing her own stomach back together the other day? You'd have laid down and cried about it.”

“No, I'd probably have been dead. Shit!” Gard sat back, the nearly empty roll of medical tape falling into her lap. “That hurts!”

“It hurts because your ribs are cracked. One or two might even be broken. I can't tell in this light and I don't want to press any harder, in case they are. Once we hit the mainland you're going to the hospital.” She rose, bent over awkwardly because of the height of the cabin and started to pack up her medical bag.

“I'll be fine. I just want to go home.” I wanted to wake Maggie up, crawl into bed with her and John and sleep for a week. Gard picked up a thermos and poured some hot coffee into a mug. I made a happy little groaning sound as she handed it to me and breathed in the caffeine.

“Harriet.” I frowned at her. She sounded like she was about to deliver a lecture. Like I was some sort of recalcitrant kid or something. Which, okay, from her point of view, maybe I was a little. “You are going to the hospital. You and Mr. Marcone can ride home together, assuming neither one of you has any injuries that require an overnight stay. Visit. Everyone who was wounded was taken to the same hospital. Makes it easier to maintain security.”

“Who was hurt?”

“Drink.” I took cautious sips of my coffee and waited. “A few of the men. Georgia caught a knife or a sword through her right thigh. Messy, but well away from the artery.” My head nodded down and I jerked it back up.

“Did you drug my coffee?” She snorted.

“No. You're tired and hurt. I don't want you to go to sleep, in case you've hit your head. Again. That's why I'm giving you coffee.” This last was said in the same tone one uses on the exceptionally thick. I'd have flipped her off if I'd had the strength.

“Who else?”

“One or two others. I'll give you the complete report later, with Mr. Marcone.” She stood and left the small space. I could hear her voice a few seconds later, speaking with the men driving the boat.

I drank the rest of my coffee and set the mug down between my feet, my head swimming with the movement. I must have been in worse shape than I thought, or at least more exhausted, because the next thing I knew I was sitting in a terribly uncomfortable chair in an emergency room and there was a nurse shining one of those little penlights into my eyes. I grumbled and swatted at her hands. She dodged me and flicked the light back and forth some more.

“No concussion.”

“Nah. The face is from earlier in the week.” She frowned, green eyes narrowing before her face transitioned back into a polite nurse smile. Not too personal, but friendly enough.

“Glad to see you've decided to join us Mrs. Marcone.” It was my turn to frown at her. Gard came into view a second before I could correct the woman and shook her head. I subsided for the moment. “Right then. We're going to go ahead and get some x-rays.”

“Awesome.” I set my hands against the armrests and started to struggle to my feet. “Lay on, MacDuff.”

“Ah.” The nurse set her hands on my shoulders and pushed me back down, firmly but carefully. “I'll be right back with the wheelchair.”

“My legs're fine.”

“Hospital policy ma'am.” She looked at Gard. “You'll keep an eye on her for just a second?”

“I won't let her go anywhere.” Gard was rewarded for her betrayal with a sunny smile and then the nurse was gone.

“'Mrs. Marcone'?” She sighed.

“It simplified a few legal issues for the moment. This way, you can visit one another without there being any fuss. You signed the papers.”

“I did no such thing. I read everything I sign and I damned well didn't sign a marriage certificate.”

“Well someone did a really excellent job forging your signature then, which amounts to the same thing right now. It's just a smoke screen Harry. Don't worry about it.”

“How come he's not Mr. Dresden?” Gard rolled her eyes.

“Really? You want to have that argument with me? Here?” She gestured around the emergency room.

“I'll argue it with Marcone, just as soon as someone takes me to him.”

“We'll take you to see Mr. Marcone just as soon as you're patched up ma'am.” Nurse Pesky was back with the wheelchair. Before she or Gard could stop me I heaved myself to my feet and flopped carefully into the contraption. My feet hung over the footrests by a good five or six inches. I could either sit like that, dangling, or with my knees about my ears. I chose to dangle.

“Then let's get a move on. I've got a few things I need to discuss with him.”

~

“I'm so sorry. I just don't understand what happened!” Nurse Pesky, whose real name was Brody finished taping up my ankle and settled the ice pack back onto my knee. I'd gotten more banged up than I'd noticed. I waved a hand in front of my face as her hair shifted, releasing more of the lingering scent of wires burning. “I've never seen an x-ray machine burst into flames before!”

“Freak accident I guess. One of those mysteries of life.” I drummed my fingers on the soft padding of the table. The plastic-paper covering crinkled as I moved. “So we're done here then? I'd like to go see Marcone.”

“You call your husband by his last name?”

“It's his name.” Nurse Brody raised one eyebrow at me, her lips quirking up in a small smile. “Look, I've been calling him Marcone since I met him. We didn't exactly like one another at first, and I did it because it annoyed him. Now days, it's just habit. I'm big on habits.” I picked the ice pack up and dropped it on the bed. “Let's go. Marcone. Now.” Then I scooted to the edge of the bed and stood, keeping my weight off of my wounded leg as much as I could. I didn't even remember hitting anything with it. “Come on. Which direction?” I looked back from my position in the doorway. Nurse Brody had her hands on her hips and was shaking her head.

“Wheelchair.”

“No.” And I hobbled out of the door and went right. Fifty-fifty shot I was headed in the right direction and I could always turn around and go the other way if I needed to. And Gard would be back soon, she'd just run out for a second to make a call.

“Mrs. Marcone! It is hospital policy that-”

“Harry?!” Elevator doors at the end of the hall stopped and sprang open as someone stuck their hand between them. Molly, pale and sickly under the hospital lighting shouldered her way out from between them even before they'd had a chance to reopen all the way.

“Molls? What're you-” I didn't scream when Molly tackled me into the wall, her arms tightening around my chest as she started to sob, but it was a close thing. I let out a pained grunt and fumbled at her shoulders, not sure if I was trying to push her away or hug her.

“Mrs.- Ma'am- Young lady!” I waved my hand at Nurse Pesky in a 'go away' gesture.

“It's fine. She's a friend.” Then I dismissed the nurse from my mind. “Molly? Hey. Can you talk to me for a second?” My voice was a little thinner than I would have liked, but it got through to her. Or maybe she just ran out of tears for the moment.

“Harry. I'm sorry.” Molly pulled away, straightening and rubbed at her face with the heels of her hands. She wasn't wearing any makeup and the lack of color made her look frightened, strained. Washed out. Not the Molly I knew. “I didn't mean to. I just-”

“What's wrong? Why're you even here?” Fear lanced through my stomach. Michael. He'd- God. Dammit. Gard hadn't said. She should have told me. Here I'd been fucking around... “Molly, where's your father?” Her eyes went even wider than they had been, tears threatening once more. She scrubbed harder at her face and when she spoke it was with a thick, choking tremble.

“He's still in surgery. There was- Mr. Hendricks said that one of the Denarians came at him from behind a veil. Somehow she got the sword up under-” Another sob ripped through her and I pulled her to me. Fuck the ribs.

“Let's get you back to your mom, okay?” She nodded, her head bobbing almost limply.

We made our way downstairs, the fucking elevator malfunctioning and stopping at every single floor. I rubbed my hand up and down Molly's back and tried to think non-explosive thoughts. 

Charity was sitting in the small waiting room, her back ramrod stiff against the back of the chair. She had her head bowed and I could see that her lips were moving. I didn't need to hear it to know that she was praying. The door swung shut behind us and Charity's head jerked up as though a gun had gone off. A strange mix of relief and disappointment swept over her too pale face.

“Molly. Harry.”

“Charity.” Molly went to sit beside her mother and they bowed their heads together for a second, their hair so similar that I couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. I felt terribly out of place, standing there watching their shared pain. Hells bells.

“Harry, come here.” There was steel buried in the grief of Charity's voice. I limped over to them.

“I'm sorry.” I sat on the other side of Charity, my leg throbbing.

Charity shook her head, her mouth tight, eyes bright with unshed tears.

“This isn't your fault Harry. It was a battle. No one can- it is not in our control. It's in His.” Her hand shook where it rested on her knee. “Michael was following his calling. We have to trust that everything will work out as He wills it.” Her hand found mine, and we waited.

Gard found me five minutes later. I saw her look in through the glass window in the door and, while she would never do anything so obvious as wince, I could tell she wasn't happy to see me there. I excused myself for a second and went out to meet her in the hall.

“So.” I crossed my arms and glowered. “Is there something you'd like to tell me?”

“There was nothing that you could do.”

“That's not the goddamned point! He's my friend and he's dying! You should have told me. I asked who was hurt and you lied to me!”

“I judged it best, until we knew what your own injuries were. If you'd known you would have run off the second we got here, ignoring your own injuries and making them worse.” She faced me, unapologetic, unblinking. “I made the call, and I still feel that it was the correct one. If you would take a second to think, rather than just being pissed off at me, you'd know I was right.”

“It wasn't your decision to make!” I growled at her, shaking with too much...everything. “Is there anything else you've been keeping from me for my own good? Is Marcone really okay? Georgia? Billy? Do I need to run down every fucking operative we had out there to be sure they're still alive?”

“Of course not.” The lights in the hallway flickered and there was a sharp series of crackling pops as the bulbs in the nearest fixtures shattered. Glass sprayed down on us in a shining rain. “I'm not going to apologize to you Harry. I did as I thought best. Mr. Marcone is upstairs in room 302. Please, by all means, go ahead and check.”

“God dammit Sigrun!” The door behind us creaked open and Molly stuck her head out.

“Harry? Ms. Gard?”

“Wh-” I checked myself. Do not yell at the already very upset apprentice. “Yes Molly?”

“Um. You're causing some of the electrical stuff to go haywire. In a hospital, next to the operating rooms.” She swallowed and straightened up a little. “Could you please take your argument somewhere else? Just until you've calmed down. Please.” She ducked back into the room, leaving me staring at the swinging door.

“She's right. This is just going to have to wait.” I turned back to face Sigrun. “I'm going to go be pissed at you somewhere less vital. Do us both a favor and be elsewhere for a while.” Then, leaning against the wall, I walked away at something only a little faster than a snail's pace.

I did my best to dodge any part of the halls that had equipment that I might blow out with a badly timed thought. Without meaning to, or really noticing where I was going, I wound up in the small chapel the hospital maintained. It was a neutral space, nothing that declared it for one faith or another. It was just a quiet, private place to be alone and speak with your god, however you chose to do so.

I closed the door behind myself and jammed one of the chairs under the handle. I did not want any accidental audiences for this. I paced through the space for a few seconds, my movements jerky and painful. Finally, I stopped and faced the front of the room where the podium, and presumably whatever deity you were trying to talk to sat.

“Okay. So, this is not my usual thing, and I'm not entirely sure how this is supposed to work. But I figure you'll get the message even if I fuck up the delivery.” I stepped closer to the space I was addressing, as if I was getting into someone elses' personal space. “I'd like to lodge a complaint. Not on my behalf you understand. But for my friend, Michael. So-”

“I can tell that this is going to be good.”

I spun, my hand coming up with the shield already forming around it. An old man sat in the front row of chairs, dressed in janitor's clothing; a dark blue coverall. The name 'Jake' was the only thing on it. No company name, nothing else. Not even a spot.

“Who the hell are you?”

He smiled and pointed at the name tag.

“You can call me Jake. It's as good a name as any, and better than some. Now, I think you were saying something about lodging a complaint?”


	11. Chapter 11

"'Jake', huh? What's your real name?" The little old guy crossed his legs at the ankles and leaned back in the chair, a pleased sort of grin creasing his face.

"We'll work up to that Harry. For now, I think you calling me Jake is best. Too many ears running around. Or you could call me Jacob, if Jake is too familiar. We've just met after all." I rolled my eyes at him and shook my head.

"I'd rather have the real name now, if you please. I like to know what I'm dealing with. So we'll say it again. What is your name?"

He chuckled and rolled his eyes right back at me.

"I'm not sidhe, Harry. Or any other flavor of fae. You can't make me tell you anything. I have been called Jacob before. It is a name, and one I will answer to. For our purposes here and now, it's good enough. Now. If you'd like to get your complaint in? I'm willing to listen."

"Oh, no. No thanks. I think I hear my sanity calling." I circled around him at the far edges of the room, keeping him in sight and my shield up. When I reached the place where the door had been, there was no door. It was just more blank wall with a chair shoved up against it. I narrowed my eyes at 'Jake's' back. "Cute. Much better than a locked door. You're not really winning me over to the side of not smashing you here."

"You're stubborn. I thought the wall might get through to you. Come sit down and tell me what's on your mind." He patted the seat of the chair beside him. "I promise not to bite."

I prodded the wall that should have been a door, both with my hands and with my senses, trying to find a seam to whatever magic he'd done. It didn't feel like an illusion, and when I opened my Sight on it, quickly, it was just a wall. Pulsing with energy, the steady clean blue-white of faith tinged with darker colors. Despair, pain, sorrow. Mourning and hope mingled together like they would be throughout the entire hospital. But stronger here, and encompassed in that glowing, brilliant surety of faith.

The thought crossed my mind to turn my Sight on 'Jake' and see what he really was. No sooner had the idea formed than 'Jake' made a clucking sound with his tongue. I closed off my Sight and looked at him again.

"That's a bad idea. I'd have to shut your Sight down so you wouldn't hurt yourself and that'd just piss you off and freak you out some more. I give you my word, Harry, that I am not here to harm you in any way. I just want to talk. Can we do that?" He turned his head to look at me over one shoulder. The movement seemed awkward, as if he had turned just a little too far for a human body.

In supernatural circles, someone giving their word was basically as good as gold. They were old fashioned that way. For the most part. I'd trusted my life to that before. And my skin was starting to jump, the feeling of being trapped rising. I wasn't claustrophobic or anything, but there was no way out of the room. That was freaky and wrong and I couldn't concentrate with the room like this.

"Bring back the door and we can talk."

"Thank you." The wall beneath my fingers was abruptly a door again. Wood and metal, still locked, the chair jammed right where I'd put it. I moved the chair and opened the door. Stuck my head out into the hall. It was empty except for one guy down about three doors down. He looked terribly out of place, with his neat grey suit tailored to hide the bulge of his gun. I recognized him well enough to be sure he was one of ours. One of the newer hires, which meant he was still in the 'throw the newbie at Harry until she breaks him' phase. When he saw me he straightened up and walked a little closer.

"Did you need something ma'am?"

"No, no. I'm good. Was this door here just a second ago?" He looked puzzled.

"Yes ma'am."

"Interesting." I looked back into the room at Jake. He had turned his chair around to face the door and was waiting, his hands folded over his stomach. I turned back to New Fish. "Stay there and make sure no one tries to come in. Got it? And don't call me ma'am anymore."

I shut the door on his reflexive "Yes ma'am".

I pulled one of the chairs out and around so I could sit facing Jake, well out of arms reach. Not that that would help much if he decided to attack me. Magic didn't care so much about distance, not on this small scale anyway. And if he was faster than I was, pretty much a given, he could close the distance before I had enough time to react. The seating arrangement made me feel a little better anyway. No reason to be flat out stupid about things when I could help it.

"So." Jake spread his hands in an invitation for me to begin.

"Who do you work for?" That same pleased smile.

"I work for the same organization your friend Michael does, of course. Just a bit up the chain of command."

"Hmph." I crossed my arms, which hurt, so I dropped my hands into my lap and tried to make it look like I'd meant to do that from the beginning.

"Are you going to-"

"We'll pretend you work for who you say you do. Just for the hell of it. Who the hell is running your organization? A monkey?" He blinked. "There's supposedly some sort of cosmic balance with you guys, right? That's why the big guns, the angels and the archangels don't run around righting wrongs all the time. Because if they do, then their opposite numbers get to do just as much damage as they've done good.

"Well I saw that sign the Denarians used on Marcone's building. There is no way in hell any of them powered that thing. I couldn't have done that, even when I had Lasciel and access to Hellfire. Not even with a hundred ritual sacrifices. Maybe a few thousand, but I think we'd have heard about that. I'm left with only one option for their power source.

"Someone big and bad and vaguely archangel shaped. Someone with some authority issues, maybe a little anger. Ring any bells?"

I wanted to get up and pace, but that would have highlighted my limp and how stiffly I was moving. So I settled for tapping my foot. Hard and fast.

"So where's the response? Where's the archangel on Michael's side? Huh? Nowhere that I can see. How do you justify that one? Michael has given his entire life to you people. He's a good person. Good. Do you have any fucking clue how rare that is? Michael has left his wife and his children behind at the drop of a hat time and time again. He's been hurt, nearly killed. Cold and alone and fighting for your side for decades. He deserves better than this.

"You guys owe him. You owe his family for everything that they've sacrificed. You all dropped the fucking ball here, letting the Denarians get away with tapping into Lucifer's power and Michael got hurt. If you guys hang him out to dry...” I ground my teeth together.

"He makes you lot look good. If you can't give him his life for everything he's ever done then you're not who he thinks you are. And you don't deserve him. He's too fucking good for you people. He always has been." 

Behind me, the door clicked open. I turned and pushed it shut again with a word, the door and the frame around it cracking as they slammed back together.

"Ma'am? Ms. Dresden? I heard shouting." New Fish. Whose name was...something wildly inappropriate for a mob guy. Dave. That was it. I really had to talk to Marcone about his hiring policies.

"Dave, I'm in a chapel, yelling at God. Or as close as I can get to him. That's why I wanted some privacy. I promise, if something attacks me, you'll know it." I turned my attention back to Jake. "So how about it? Is anyone up there going to do their fucking jobs? I don't expect it for me. I'm not part of the team and I-"

"How do you know we haven't done anything?" Jake leaned forward, arms on his legs. "Maybe some 'vaguely archangel shaped' being did weigh in on the side of the Denarians. In a flashy, explosive use of power. Very much in line with his personality I must add. He can do subtle, but he doesn't always like to. He likes to call attention to himself on occasion. Remind people that he's still around. His ego can't support anything less. And maybe another one has invested their power in a subtler, farther reaching use. The balance isn't as black and white as you think it is. It's about the weight of the action, the potential."

My right hand started to tingle almost painfully and I looked down to find it engulfed in a silvery white lightning that crackled and flashed. I yelped and stood up, knocking my chair over.

“Shit!” I shook my hand and tried to shut the spell down. It didn't work. I hadn't even noticed I was casting a spell. Then, between one panicked thought and the next, the lightning was gone, leaving me staring down at my perfectly normal hand. “What the hell was that?!” I kept shaking my hand. It had gone numb, like I'd been sleeping on it.

“Hey! What'd you-” Jake was gone. His chair still sat out of place from everything else, facing me, a book lying open on the seat. But there was no other sign of the little old man. “Son of a bitch!” I picked up the book and swept my eyes around the room again. I hate when things can just pop in and out on me.

The book was a battered copy of The Two Towers. Apparently Jake was even harder on books than I was. I flipped it over and found a line of dialogue highlighted in bright yellow. “The burned hand teaches best.'” I snorted and flipped through the pages rapidly. Nothing else was marked. “Well if that isn't the biggest bit of fortune cookie bullshit I've heard all day. What the hell am I supposed to get out of that?” I threw my head back and glared at the ceiling. “Huh? And what about Michael?”

“Should the Watchman have said it more simply? 'Once burned, twice shy' perhaps?” I jumped again, my heart pounding against my ribs, setting them to aching even more fiercely. Grimalkin prowled across the tops of the chairs, the sight of his huge body moving so delicately over the narrow surface making me pause and stare. “Your experience with the Fallen Lasciel has taught you much about resisting such creatures and understanding them. You are in a unique position to teach others.”

Grimalkin hopped down into Mab's lap. She ran her long nails through his thick grey fur, petting him as though he were a real cat. The Queen of Air and Darkness smiled at me and waved me into my chair, which had righted itself as some point.

“'The Watchman'?” I stayed standing. Mab shrugged and Grimalkin began to speak.

“The Prince of the Host is all pomp and ceremony, moving with the sound of thunder, the clamour of his army. The Messenger never walks quietly, too amused at the world to deny himself the pleasure of being noticed and appreciated. The Demon Binder does what he needs done himself, never relying on another if he does not have to. The Watchman though, he is quiet. Subtle. A master of manipulation and hidden things. Very dangerous.” Mab's face broke into a smile that drew me in, made me want to smile in response. She was beautiful and magnetic. Even knowing who she was and what she did, there was a large part of me that wanted to be near her. “I like him best.”

I forced my gaze away from her and rummaged through what little I knew about archangels. “Uriel?”

Mab pressed a finger to her lips, shushing me.

“I would take care not to use his name frivolously my dear. Catching the attention of one such as he will draw other attention to you as well. Less friendly than my own.”

I wiggled my still numb fingers in the air in front of my face. “What'd he do to me?”

“The answer to that would cost you.” Her eyes narrowed. “I don't believe you wish to incur more debt to me. You've hardly managed to get rid of the second part of the debt you already owed.”

“So you got my package?”

“I did. He was rather more dead than I would have liked.”

“I did my best to send him to you alive. He just wouldn't stop trying to kill me.” Grimalkin made a sound that reminded me of a sarcastic burst of laughter.

“There was enough left for me to work with.” She reached beside her into empty air. When she brought her hand back up...memory clicked into place.

“Hey!” She handed me my blasting rod. “You messed with my head! Are you trying to get me killed?”

“Please. I took your fire because I judged it best. The battle is over and you acquitted yourself well without it.”

“Hells bells. Don't do that.” I wanted to smack myself as soon as the words left my mouth. Among the many things ones does not do to Mab, telling her what to do was high on the list. She laughed. Her real voice, not through Grimalkin. I heard the first few notes of it, musical and lovely as winter sunlight on the edge of a razor, then I was on the floor, staring up at Mab.

She hadn't moved from her seat, her hands still petting the Malk.

“You are mine, Harry. I will do with you as I like, at least until you have fulfilled your obligation to me. An I deem it best, I will strip everything you have from you. Every last scrap of magic. Until you learn some respect.” I rose to my feet and wiped at the blood seeping from my nose.

“I'd be useless to you without magic.”

“Perhaps. I'm certain you would learn your lesson soon enough. You don't deal well without your magic.” She cocked her head as though she heard a voice. I blinked and she was gone, taking Grimalkin with her.

I ran my fingers over my blasting rod and glared around the room.

“Some day, I'm going to learn to teleport or something. Pop in and out on everybody. See how they like it.” I stood for a few more minutes, getting my temper and my fear under control. There would be no blowouts if I could help it. Dave was still outside the door when I opened it and stalked out. If a quick limp could be called a stalk.

“Ma-” He caught himself. “Ms. Dresden.”

“Dave, call me Harry. Now, I've done my yelling for the moment and we're going to go see Marcone now.” We walked in silence for a few steps. “There might be some yelling after I get to Marcone. I don't recommend you come barging in on that one.”


	12. Chapter 12

I sort of expected to run into Gard somewhere in the halls between the chapel and Marcone's room. She never appeared, so I guess she was taking the whole 'be elsewhere' thing seriously. Good. There were the usual quiet, unobtrusive men stationed throughout the halls, a higher concentration the closer we got to Marcone's room. They didn't blend particularly well, what with none of them being in scrubs or even candy stripper outfits, but they stayed out of the way and managed to look like part of the scenery somehow. It was a skill.

There were two guys on Marcone's door, not doing anything to look like they belonged. They looked like exactly what they were; bodyguards. Heavily armed, cranky bodyguards. I nodded at Fredo and Tony as they moved out of my way. They did not attempt to open the door for me, I cured all the henchmen of that habit as fast as I could, though I caught Fredo doing a little half bow out of the corner of my eye. I ignored him, because I was mature like that. And it was kind of funny and confused Dave the New Fish I was sure.

I didn't bother knocking, which meant that I got a really good look at Marcone's bare ass as Hendricks helped him into a pair of bluejeans. It's a very nice ass by the way. Marcone whipped his head around, sort of. He wasn't moving with the speed he usually did, which meant he was only a little bit faster than every other human on the planet, and when he did turn he managed to overbalance himself and started to list to one side very slightly. I started forward to catch him, but Hendricks' giant hand caught one of Marcone's arms and corrected his balance before guiding him down to sit of the bed. Painkillers plus exhaustion do not equal a great deal of coherency. Dammit. I guess I couldn't exactly yell at him then. It would be too much like shooting fish in a barrel. Stoned fish.

“You see what I mean, Mr. Hendricks? Mr. Marcone is not in any condition to be leaving the hospital at this time. He needs to remain here for observation.”

The three of us, Cujo, Marcone and myself, turned to glare at the unfortunate doctor who'd pulled this case. Well. Two of us glared effectively. I think Marcone was a little too fuzzy to get the full effect of his usual stare into action. The man shrank back a little and then caught himself, found his spine and set it up in a straight line.

“And you. You can't just go barging into rooms. This is a private room in a hospital.”

“Very true.” I patted him on the shoulder as I walked by. It made it easier for John if all three of us were in the same sort of area in the room. Plus, I really wanted to see his face. “However, as Mr. Hendricks will inform you, I'm Mrs. Marcone. His wife.” I hitched my thumb in John's direction.

It took a second for that one to sink through the cotton stuffed in John's head, but I could tell when it had. He went a shade paler than he had been a second before and his eyes lost some of their fuzzed out look. I bared my teeth at him and tilted my head to one side. Why yes, the game is up you jackass. And as soon as I don't feel as if I'm kicking a puppy I'm going to hand you your ass. The corner of his mouth twitched upward in a smile.

“'S true.” Cujo was grinning beside me. The doctor looked between the three of us rapidly before he settled on me.

“Very good. Then you can convince your husband that he needs to remain in the hospital tonight.”

“I'd love to help you...” I finally looked at his name tag. Then I looked again. And laughed. One of those explosive, surprised laughs. “Dr. McCoy. Really?” He sighed.

“Yes. Really. I've heard all the jokes.”

“Oh, I have no doubt.” I did not make any of the jokes that came to mind. It was a shame the doctor didn't have a better sense of humor about this. “Marcone is going home tonight. He's all patched up and checked out, right?”

“Yes. But-”

“But nothing. Give us any instructions we need and then get going on the paperwork. Trust me when I tell you that there is not a damn thing in the world you can do to keep him here if we really want to leave. So just make your life a little easier and do what I tell you to do. 'Kay?”

I was pretty sure that we'd be safe at the hospital. Too many mortals around for most supernaturals to pick a fight. Only it was the Denarians, and they didn't play by the rules. Something about being demonic ass hats made them unpredictable that way. And there was precedence, even outside of the Denarians for a supernatural threat to take out a human, civilian population just to get at their supernatural target. I'd feel infinitely better once John was back at the house and behind the wards. Not only would he be safer, but so would everyone around him.

“Ma'am, I do not respond to threats.”

“It wasn't a threat. Just a statement of fact. We're checking him out, AMA and all. I promise, you will be much happier once we're gone. Look on the bright side. All those thugs out in the hallway go with us.” Cujo loomed behind me and I suspected that he was pulling one of his 'I'm a big scary psycho' faces. They were really very effective until you got to know him. I tried to look friendly and like a nice alternative. I think the bruises and my clearly compensating for injuries movements took something away from the cute and harmless thing I was trying to pull off.

“I- there's-”

“Hendricks, why don't you take nice Dr. McCoy and go get him started on the paperwork. He can bring it here for us to sign, right?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent. I'll wait right here with my darling hubby.” I sat on the hospital bed beside John, carefully. Hendricks guided the doctor out of the room without ever getting close enough to actually touch him. Like a big sheep dog. We sat in silence for a few seconds once they'd cleared the room.

“So.”

“If you're going to launch into a lecture, I'd appreciate it if you waited until I can defend myself. I feel as though I need all of my faculties to defend myself.”

“Only you could use the word 'faculties' while high on painkillers. You're weird, you know that?”

“You might have mentioned it before. Once or twice.” Another long pause. I stared at the blank wall across from us and slid my hand a little closer to his leg. John's hand, warm even through the bandages they'd wrapped around it touched the top of mine, lightly.

“Casualties? I only ask because James refuses to tell me anything.” I snorted.

“Yeah. He and Gard must have gotten together on that one.” I moved my hand so I could run my thumb over the back of his, along the edges of the tape holding the bandaging in place. “As far as I know, it's mostly minor injuries to our people. I brought in some outside help from Monoc and that gave us the advantage. Plus the Alphas and Sanya.” I swallowed around the bowling ball that had somehow gotten lodged in my throat. “Michael. He's...he's the only critical wounded that I know about. They've got him downstairs and are operating right now. I don't know all the details but I think it was a sword, up and under his armor. So it would have had to go through, maybe some intestines? Which is bad for infections and shit.” I pictured the old anatomy sketches I'd studied in high school. “Liver, maybe a kidney depending on where the blade went in and the angle. Lungs. Hells bells.”

Marcone didn't say anything. Didn't try to tell me that it was going to be all right or that it wasn't my fault. He's smart, sometimes. Not all the time. Just every so often.

“Who was it?”

“I don't know. Most of the older Denarians probably know how to use a sword. I know Nic does, and Deidre's hair could count-” John shook his head and gave me an exasperated look. 

“The traitor, Harry. Who was it?”

“Oh. That 'who'. Beckitt.”

“I see.” His eyes narrowed and I knew he was taking in my suddenly more rigid posture and the fact that I was still refusing to look at him. “And where is she now?”

“I don't know. Getting carjacked by panicky amateurs or coming home early to find some punks robbing her apartment. Whatever. They'll come up with something plausible.” I pulled my hand away from him and rubbed my palms over my borrowed pants. Clearly the Monoc people were Boy Scouts to the nth level, because who brought spare clothes to a fight?

“Harry-” My anger, which I had been doing a damned good job of keeping under wraps thanks in part to my relief at seeing Marcone up and in more or less one piece, took the opportunity to come boiling back up through me.

“She was going to take Maggie, John. They sent a team to the house to try and kidnap Maggie. Beckitt thought she was going to raise Maggie to replace Amanda. I couldn't let her live. No matter where you sent her, she'd come back. I refused to live with that threat hanging over Maggie's head.”

“They wouldn't have let her keep Maggie.”

“Hell no. But that was her plan. Her price for turning us over to be tortured and maybe killed. My daughter.”

“I see.” I poked him in the arm, hard.

“You see? That's all you've got? No, 'I'm sorry, Harry, for putting our daughter in danger'?”

“I am sorry, of course. Though I had no way of knowing that Helen would choose such a course. I am not a mind reader as you know. I'm sorry that you had to take care of all of this yourself. I know you dislike these aspects of my life.”

“Hells bells, John, that's not why I'm pissed! You do get that, don't you? I'm not pissed because I had to execute a woman for you because you could never bring yourself to do it! I'm pissed you didn't listen to me and get rid of her before it got this far!”

“When did you tell me to get rid of her?” His voice was mild, quiet, but clear. No slurring or hesitation from the drugs. “I recall you feeling uncomfortable with her, a normal reaction for a new mother I've been told. I recall you suggesting that Helen might be happier elsewhere. I spoke with her and she wished to remain in Chicago. If you, at any point, gave me some solid evidence or even a direct suspicion that Helen was dangerous, I cannot remember it.”

I shoved myself off the bed and stomped over to the wall to lean against it. 

“You're seriously going to call 'pregnancy brain' on my being worried by Beckitt?”

“No. I am just trying to say that I had no reason to doubt or suspect her. No more than any of perhaps a dozen mid-level employees. You-” 

Thankfully, Hendricks and Dr. McCoy chose that moment to return with the discharge paperwork. We had to put the fight I hadn't intended to have just yet on hold. I signed a couple of things, starting to write 'Dresden' every single time before I caught myself. John signed some other things and then we were finally able to load him into a wheelchair and get him downstairs.

The elevator got a bit crowded, what with all the bodyguards, so I took the stairs. Fredo and Dave elected to come with me and I took the opportunity to get my emotions back under control. By the time we hit the ground floor, the lights had stopped flickering off and on every time I walked past one of them and Dave's hair and suit jacket were starting to dry from that one rogue sprinkler that had spritzed him when we first hit the stairwell on the third floor.

I walked with John and Hendricks out to the car and waited, keeping my senses extended and my eyes open as they helped him into the back seat. I waited until he was buckled in and the door was closed with three of the guys in there with him, feeling like the worlds most over protective mom, and then I pulled Hendricks off to the side. 

“I want to keep Fredo and two of the guys. Not Dave. He's too confused to do me any good as a guard right now.”

“You leaving them behind to watch Carpenter and his family?”

“Yeah. Except for the leaving part of that. They're staying with me.” Hendricks glowered at me. If only I hadn't known him and, oh, yeah, been kind of his boss. “I'm not leaving until I know if Michael's going to be okay.”

“You're don't want to come home and see Margaret?” I narrowed my eyes and took a step into Hendricks' personal space. My hands were clenched at my sides to prevent me from doing anything stupid. Like punching him or knocking him through the wall.

“Maggie is fine. I know that because I had Gard call. If something had happened, we'd already be there, killing people. We're not. I left my daughter safe with Thomas and Murphy. And the secret ninja nanny. And Mouse and George. Along with every other defense I laid on the house and all the non-military grade thugs we could spare to guard the house. You are not going to guilt me into going home to make your life easier by making me feel like I'm being a bad mother.

“Maggie is safe and Michael isn't yet.”

He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender and took a step back.

“Dresden. Harry. That's not what I was trying to do. Not at all. You're tired and I don't think you're thinking straight. I wanted to be sure you knew what you were doing. They might not know anything until tomorrow morning with Carpenter. You need rest and you're not going to get any until you're home with the kid and the Boss. We both know that. It came out badly is all. I should have said it better. Sorry.” I counted to fifty and tried to ignore the aches and the pain and the sheer overwhelming exhaustion that was dragging at my body. I was so tired I was raw.

“It's okay. You're tired too. I'm staying until we know about Michael. Please, take him home for me. I'll call once we know anything.”

~

The guys I kept with me took turns standing guard outside the waiting room. The two who weren't outside sat inside with us, close enough to be helpful in case of emergency, but far enough to grant the illusion of privacy. Molly and I both fell asleep at some point during the night, a light, restless doze that left me feeling more tired than I had been before. Charity, as far as I could tell, never slept. She sat vigil for her husband and she never flagged.

Father Forthill arrived sometime after midnight, during one of my naps. He didn't ever seem to sleep either.

I went to get us all some coffee around 3 in the morning. When I got back from the cafeteria, there was a doctor standing in the room speaking to Charity. Molly had a death grip on her mothers hand, but she sat there, a brilliant echo of her mothers strength and listened. I handed the coffees off to the guards who were giving the family some privacy and slipped into the room as quietly as I could manage.

“-nicked his left lung. We've repaired that damage as well, and I have every hope for his recovery Mrs. Carpenter. Until he wakes up we won't know if there was any brain damage. He was only without oxygen for a very short time, so it is unlikely, but it's a possibility. Even if there is not, he will require assistance for the foreseeable future. Possibly for the rest of his life. The internal trauma was severe. I know it might not seem like it, but your husband is very lucky. For the kinds of wounds that he received...there should have been more damage.” He shook his head. “I've never seen anything quite like it. He's in recovery now, and barring any further complications, they'll be bringing him out in the next hour or two.”

“Excuse me.” The doctor turned to me. He'd changed before coming to see Charity, if he'd been in the operating room. There wasn't a speck of blood on him.

“Yes? And you are?”

“Har-”

“She's family.” I looked at Charity in surprise, but she only gave me a sad smile and turned to say something to Molly.

“When you bring him out, is he going to be on any machines? Life support?”

“For the moment. We have him on a respirator.”

“Thank you.” The doctor took his leave of us. I went over to Charity and hugged her. It shocked us both, but it felt good. Simple, joyous human contact with someone who was just a relieved as you were that the bad thing hadn't happened.

“Right. I'm going to leave two of the guys here. Fredo and Billy. I'll let them know what to do. Molly, we need to leave.” My apprentice looked at me and then her mother. Her eyes went to the doors to the operating rooms.

“But they're- oh. Respirator.”

“Respirator. I'm going to bring her home with me, if that's okay?” Charity nodded.

“My mother has the little ones and I'd rather Molly wasn't alone right now.”

“Mom-” Charity cut off her tired daughter with one hand.

“None of us should be alone right now Molly. That's all.” Molly deflated and nodded, her entire body drooping.

~

Molly and I trudged through the house like a pair of zombie extras. Too tired to do much more than shuffle forward in search of the promised land of bed. Toot and some of the other Guard had met us in the garage and were keeping up a steady commentary on everything that had happened while we were gone. I'd have swatted them, but it helped keep me from picking a piece of floor and sleeping on it.

When we reached the guest room I'd assigned to Molly the little fae zipped away, except for Jax. To my surprise the little guy circled Molly and then landed on her shoulder, his mohawk brushing the bottom of her ear. Molly turned her head enough that she could just see him.

“Hey.”

“Hello Lady Molly. I am Jax of the 'Za Lady's Guard.” He gave her a little bow. “I've been assigned to watch over you, if it pleases.” Molly giggled a little.

“I like your hair.” 

Jax puffed his chest out and ran one hand over the bristles, clearly very proud.

“Thank you my Lady!”

“You two good?”

Molly grunted and Jax saluted. I took that as a yes and as soon as Molly was actually in her room I headed upstairs.

Marcone was flat on his back on his side of the bed, sleeping the unnaturally still sleep of the drugged. He had Maggie's crib in our room, right beside the bed. Maggie was sleeping as quietly as she ever did, making soft baby sounds and wriggling her butt up in the air. I pulled her blanket up over her, knowing that it would be kicked down to the bottom of the crib again come morning and stripped down to my too large, borrowed shirt.

I climbed into the bed beside Marcone and wriggled until I was right up against his side, facing Maggie's crib.


	13. Chapter 13

“BAH!” squeaksqueakthump A quiet snuffle, some mutterings and then the squeaking started up again, accompanied by a steady chant of, “Bah!” that rose in volume at a steady pace. I opened my eyes, fighting against the ten pound weights someone had placed on them and gave my daughter a dirty look. 

Maggie giggled and stamped both of her feet at the same time, the movement knocking her off balance. She lost her grip on the bars of the crib and thumped back onto her butt. She giggled again and clapped. Shit. How in the hell had I wound up with such a cheerful baby?

“Just a second Maglet.” Marcone's chest rose and fell with reassuring regularity beneath my head. He stirred a little and murmured as her cries rose in volume, but he didn't wake up. He was getting close though. Good.

It took me a couple of minutes to get my body moving. I felt like every single muscle had solidified while I slept, tight enough that every movement hurt. Moving sucked, but I knew if it wasn't going to get better if I just laid there. The only cure was to move. Slowly, and like I was six-hundred years old. My Mickey Mouse clock, once I'd managed to flop over far enough that I could see it, let me know that it was a little after six thirty in the morning. Which meant Maggie's breakfast was late. And, assuming that that smell wasn't coming from the adults in the room, she'd left me a present.

I considered shuffling right out of the room and into any of the spare bedrooms along the hall, then crawling into the bed and sleeping for a week. While I thought about it, I stumbled into the bathroom and cleaned up. Then, still imagining crawling between cool, crisp sheets I scooped Maggie up out of the crib and cleaned her up, much to her delight. She seemed to think that the entire process was a game where her goal was to make everything as hard as she possibly could for me by kicking and squirming. I was just glad she hadn't been a boy. Michael'd told me some stories about his boys on the changing table. I was not up to dodging a stream of baby pee. Not this morning anyway.

With both of us cleaned up and smelling much better, we made our way out into the hall in search of breakfast, accompanied by Maggie's steady commentary on every second. Or maybe she was telling me about all the really cool things she, Uncle Tommy and Aunt Murph had done the day before. I wasn't really clear on what she was trying to say. But I nodded my head and told her how interesting everything she said was. And I absolutely did not use baby talk. I was not sitting through yet another lecture on how I'd be delaying her verbal development. Hendricks had broken out giant charts the last time.

Mouse met us about half way down the stairs and got his own squealing greeting of babble. He whuffed quietly in response and Maggie tilted her head, puzzled. Then she said something else. Mouse made the same quiet noises he always did and the skin on the back of my neck prickled. They weren't doing anything they hadn't done a hundred times before, so maybe it was because of the day I'd had, the lack of sleep, all of that thrown together. But it felt like my dog was having a conversation with my daughter. An actual, real conversation that I just couldn't understand.

They kept it up all the way into the kitchen. Maggie was mid-sentence when I walked through the door and we found Gard pouring herself a cup of coffee. We both froze for a second, staring at one another and then we looked away.

“Sigrun.”

“Harry.” I strapped Maggie into her highchair and then rocked it gently back and forth. I'd started doing that just to test the things stability, but by now Maggie thought it was part of the process. If I didn't rock the chair she tried to rock it herself, which gave me nightmares of her managing to rock it over and cracking her skull open. So I rocked carefully and she giggled, then slapped the tray in front of her, renewing her demands for her bottle.

I got the bottle ready and handed it off to Maggie. She started eating happily and I ran my hand over her fuzzy little cap of black hair before turning to face Gard. She'd poured a second cup of coffee and held it out to me.

“Is it roofied?” Her blue eyes narrowed, but she didn't flinch or look guilty.

“No. Would you like me to take a drink first, or is my word good enough for you?” I took the mug. I sipped at it and let it warm me.

“Are we going to have this out now, or would you like to wait until daylight? Perhaps we could just start throwing punches until you felt better about it.”

“Hells bells, Gard. Do you not understand why I'm mad at you? You lied to me.”

“It was for your own good, Harry. My job is to keep Mr. Marcone safe and to further his interests. Part of that involved keeping you safe Harry. I judged it the best course of action to prevent you from being distracted. As I told you before, I will not apologize for it.”

“I didn't realize that part of your contract involved keeping things from your employers. Vital information, even. How are we supposed to be able to trust you? How am I supposed to be able to trust you? I thought we were more than just employer, employee. I thought we were friends. You don't keep that sort of thing from friends.”

“Don't be naïve. Of course you do. You've done it yourself.” She set the mug down and shook her head. “Your problem is not with what I did, but that I did it to you. If it had been you on my side of the problem, you'd have done the same thing.”

“You're right. I am pissed that you did it to me. I'm always going to be pissed that you did it to me. It was my decision to make. It was- you took away my choice Sigrun. You could have told me and then made your case for me going to the hospital. You could have given me a choice. Maybe I'd have made the wrong choice from your point of view. Maybe I wouldn't have. We'll never know because you didn't trust me enough to give me the choice. You didn't trust me and now I can't trust you. That's the part that kills me.”

Sigrun crossed the space between us and rested an arm gently over my shoulders, tugging me in close to her body. I made a sound that resembled 'meep' and tried not to spill my coffee all over the both of us. It wasn't a hug, exactly. Not even a sideways hug. We stood there, sort of half leaning into one another for a long second.

“You can trust me Harry. I did not betray you.”

“I don't know. I mean, I know that you don't view it as a betrayal, but that doesn't change the fact that it was.” I pulled away and she let me go, stepping away. “I want to be able to still work with you and for us to still be friends. Maybe the problem is that you didn't know what to expect. What I expected. So here it is. You don't ever do anything like that again. Ever. If you are in possession of knowledge that impacts my family, my friends, or myself, you will tell me. If I find out you've kept something from me or lied, it's over. I'll have you recalled back to Monoc come hell or high water. Are we clear?”

Gard narrowed her eyes at me and gave me a considering look, her head tilted to one side.

“I understand.” Maybe it was just the blows to the head I'd taken recently, but she seemed pleased with me for some reason. “And our friendship?”

“We'll have to take that a bit more slowly Sigrun. I understand your reasons. But like I said. You lied. I- it's going to take some time.”

Maggie chittered and threw her empty bottle at us. It didn't get very far, she didn't have much of a throwing arm yet, but it slid across the tile until it hit against our feet. I bent down to pick it up and had to take a sharp, nauseated breath. Fucking ribs.

“I've got it.” Gard scooped the bottle up and set it beside the sink.

“Thanks.”

~

I didn't want to go back upstairs, not yet. Marcone was still asleep and I didn't want to disturb him. He'd be waking up soon enough. I'd go talk to him once he was up and coherent. In the mean time, I took Maggie and went hunting for Thomas and Murphy. On the way, I poked my head in to check on Molly. She was face down on the bed, still fully dressed. She hadn't even managed to get her shoes off before collapsing. Jax was sitting in the windowsill, drowsing in the growing sunlight.

I set Maggie down for a second, just long enough to get Molly's sneakers off and throw a light blanket over her. Then the kid and I headed out in search of the rest of the crew.

George found us in room number four. I probably should have just asked one of the guys if they knew where Thomas or Murphy was, but the search kept me on my feet and moving, which felt great compared to the frozen lump I was sure to become if I sat still.

“Lady K, you got a few minutes?”

“Yeah, sure. I guess. Have you seen Murphy or Thomas?”

“Mr. Raith left about an hour ago. He said he had to get in to work, but he'd be back this afternoon. Ms. Murphy said she had some errands to run and a few things to check on in the city. She'll be back in a few hours.”

“Great. What do you need?”

“There's a few things I'd like you to take a look at. A couple of guys I'd like you to talk to.”

“Shouldn't you be taking this stuff to Hendricks?”

“Mr. Hendricks is the one who told me to ask you.”

“Fine.” We started walking toward Marcone's home office. “Am I going to have to shoot anyone or break their knees? Because if so, I need to put Maggie somewhere less violence prone.”

“Nah. A couple of phone calls. Mini K's delicate sensibilities should be safe for the moment.”

“'Mini K'? Really? She hasn't even set anything on fire yet.”

“It's only a matter of time.”

~

I had forgotten the cardinal rule of all meetings. 

They are boring. No matter that the meeting is between trained assassins or drug dealers or just the freaking PTA. Assuming that everyone is there to 'get something done' and not kill anyone, it will be boring. 

I spent the rest of the morning on the phone in between playing with and feeding Maggie. A couple of times the guys on the other end had gone silent and asked me, with disbelief thick in their voices, if there was a baby in the room with me. I'd growled and told them it was none of their fucking business. It was minor stuff, really. A little problem with someone who thought they weren't getting a big enough cut, someone else who wanted an investigation of one of their lieutenants. Boring. 

Around noon Dave brought George and I sandwiches and a message. Marcone was up and asking for me. 

“You want to take a break? Go up and see the Boss?”

I washed down my last bite with some Coke and shook my head.

“Nah. I'll go see him in a few minutes. Let's just get this last dick head taken care of first.”

“Ick! Ick!” Maggie beat her rattle against the couch, bouncing and grinning, showing off the tiny little teeth spread unevenly through her mouth.

“You would pick up on that word. Hey, on second thought, why don't you take Maggie up to see him? I can handle this last one on my own, no chaperone.”

I was riffling through Marcone's desk an hour later when the door opened and Marcone himself walked through. He was pale and moving slowly, but he was moving without any help at all and his eyes were clear. I glanced up long enough to watch him lock the door and then I turned my attention back to my search.

“Avoiding me is extremely childish.” Marcone settled into the chair on the other side of the desk and picked up the single sheet of paper lying on the blotter. It was a copy of the forged marriage certificate. I'd only found the one and I was almost finished looking through every file.

“I'm not avoiding you. I've been busy. Maggie down for her nap?”

“Yes. If you're not avoiding me, why won't you look at me?” I sighed and shut the drawer, straightening in the chair. Our gazes met over the expanse of wood between us, John was still holding the offending scrap of paper.

“Happy?”

“Not particularly. How is Michael?”

“Alive and out of surgery. Charity'll call when she knows something new. Molly's crashing here for the time being.” I reached for the marriage certificate. He let me take it from him. “What the hell did you think you were doing?”

“It was the simplest way to be certain that I would be able to get information about you and have access to you in an emergency situation.” I crumpled the fake bit of paper in my hands.

“There are other ways to go about that. You didn't even ask me what I thought about it.”

“It was the simplest way. All of the other options were more open to problems and delays if an emergency arose. No matter what hospital situation you might have wound up in, they would honor the rights of your spouse more quickly than-”

“You could have asked! You just went off and did what you wanted to do without even stopping to think about what I wanted, didn't you? Do you have a fucking clue how much it freaked me out to find out that you- that you'd just assumed that kind of power?”

“I would only have used it in an emergency. And never to make any decisions that would go against your own desires.”

“That's not the point! If it was a problem, you should have talked to me about it! Hells fucking bells, John! It's not like I don't have a Power of Attorney already, with Murphy. We could have written up a new one, given it to you. I'm not being unreasonable here, am I? Wanting some say in my life?” I shook the wrinkled marriage certificate in the air. “We could have even done this stupid marriage certificate thing, if it really did make it easier.”

John's face went through a change, tightening and then relaxing, twisting into a shape I only sort of recognized as a wry grin.

“Could we really? As I recall, when I did bring it up, you said you didn't want to get married.”

“That wasn't a serious conversation!”

“Wasn't it?” Marcone caught the paper and tugged it from my hands, smoothing it out on the desk. I stared at him, my brain ticking over.

“You were seriously asking me to marry you?”

“Not at that moment, no. I was...testing the waters I suppose. You rejected it very thoroughly.”

“I did not! I just said that-”

“You turned around and asked if I wanted to get married. And your tone of voice, Harry. If you could have heard yourself. It sounded as though you thought I was about to ask you to jump into a live volcano. I took that as a definite no.”

“I didn't think you were serious!”

“I was.” He held the certificate up to eye level and tore it in two. Then he ripped it up into successively smaller pieces until there was a handful of confetti left. “You seem to have had a change of heart, from what I hear. Baroness.”

“That was necessary-” I did not smack myself in the head, though the urge was there. It was different from what he'd done. It just was. “Look. I want anything you've got that makes us look like we're married destroyed. Like they never existed.”

“Certainly.” We stared for another dozen heartbeats.

“Do you still want to get married?”

“To you? Yes.”

I swallowed and thought about it for a second. It wasn't like anything would really change. Not really. It was just a piece of paper. A real version of what Marcone had faked. It didn't have to change anything at all.

“Okay. Fine. So we'll do that. Get married.” I grinned, expecting him to return the smile.

“No.”

“I'm sorry, what?”

“I said, 'no'.” Marcone got to his feet. “I want to marry you, yes. But I'm not going to marry you just because it's what I want. I don't believe you really want to marry me. Until you do, the answer is no.” And then the son of a bitch left the room.

I waited until after Michael was out of the ICU and into the rehab center. Molly went home two weeks after the fight out on the island, the same day they moved Michael. She took Jax and a small contingent of the Guard with her. They'd help keep an eye on things for me. Once I knew that Michael and his family were as safe as they could be, I had arranged for unobtrusive security for all the Carpenters, I started making my own arrangements. 

Three weeks after everything in my life had gone straight to shit, I was on a train with my daughter and my dog, running away to California.


	14. Chapter 14

Our train pulled into Union Station late in the afternoon.

Every single passenger I passed as I made my way off the train and across the platform gave me a look. I'm used to getting looks. Usually it's because I'm a skinny six foot tall woman in a long black coat. Sometimes it's because I've just done something truly strange, like conjure fire into a ball in my hand. Sometimes it's because I'm covered in some gross, noxious liquid and my hair is still smoking from the fire I just put out. Or started. Okay, usually I'd started the fire, whether or not I wound up putting it out later.

These looks though, I suspected, had nothing to do with my looks. I thought they might have something to do with the screaming baby I was pushing around in her stroller. Maggie had been asleep when we left the house two days ago, slipping out early in the morning to catch the train. She'd woken up a couple of hours into the trip and been fine. Drank her bottle, ate some of those soft cookies they make for babies and played a surprisingly intricate game of Peek-a-Boo with Mouse.

Around seven, the usual time Marcone would have been wandering through the kitchen or back into the bedroom to take a shower after his workout, always stopping to pick Maggie up, give her a kiss and talk to her for a second, she started looking around, slowly going silent. Half an hour after that, she started to scream. And then she just kept going, the entire trip. Not the screaming, exactly. She'd have hurt something if she tried that. But my sweet, happy little baby transformed into the demon spawn from hell.

Maggie spent the entire forty hour trip crying, screaming, throwing things and making a mess. She refused to eat on time, managed to strip out of her clothes and her diaper in the two seconds my back was turned to poop all over the bed. Then she decided to finger paint with it. That one had not won me any friends amongst the crew either. She'd started pulling on Mouses' ears and his tail, something he bore with a great deal of self control, yanked on my hair every time I picked her up, and bit me.

The understanding and sympathetic looks and advice I'd gotten from other parents the first day had faded away into cold silences and the stares. I couldn't blame them. I was obviously an incompetent mother and human being. I couldn't even keep my own baby happy for longer than a few minutes at a time. My glowering and muttering cuss words under my breath while lights popped out every time I walked by didn't help things either.

I maneuvered Maggie through the crowds, which was pretty easy since people tended to step out of the way of a screaming baby and a very tired looking mother without too much fuss. The giant dogasaurus following in our wake probably didn't hurt much either. We found a spot off to one side, under the awning and away from everyone else. I pulled Maggie's binky, which she had rejected the last three times I tried to give it to her, out from her bag and popped it into her open mouth. For a second I thought she was going to spit it right back out at me again, her bright green eyes narrowed in contemplation, but then she clamped her lips tight and started to suck, soothing herself. Quietly.

"Finally." I slumped over the stroller, my ears ringing with the sudden cessation of ear piercing noise. "I will buy you a freaking pony when you're older if you'll just be quiet for a few hours." She sucked harder, her eyes squinching closed. I took that as agreement.

I stood, stretching out my back and looked around. No one was clapping, but there was a definite air of relief. I bared my teeth in a fierce grin and considered hexing the entire place down. Which would just keep me here longer, since I still needed to collect our luggage. Dammit.

I scanned the crowd and spotted Elaine coming toward us within a minute. I didn't bother to wave or anything, since she'd obviously seen me already. One of the perks of being so tall. Elaine and I were easy to spot in a crowd. As she got closer, I watched her face. It had been nearly two years since the last time I'd seen her, but she hadn't changed. Not in any way that mattered. She'd cut her hair a little shorter so that it just brushed the tops of her shoulders, but it was still the rich, shining brown it had always been. Maybe a little brighter, a little more heavily streaked with shades of blonde. 

She still dressed casually and managed to make it all look elegant with no effort at all. Sandals, blue jeans and a loose white shirt with small flowers and leaves embroidered on it in bright colors. It's pale shade just served to highlight the light golden brown of her skin. I stood there feeling tall and gawky, covered with dirt and a little bit of spit-up. It wouldn't have mattered, even if I'd met her fresh out of the shower, I'd have been the plain girl in the room.

Elaine was smiling and I smiled back, happiness and a sense of relief spreading through me and pushing away the knots of anger and frustration that had been sitting in my stomach for the last few weeks. She stepped into the open space around me and stopped, just out of arms reach.

"Holy crap. It's a baby!"

Maggie looked up at her, still sucking on her binky, the expression on her face clearly stating that she was not impressed with what she saw either. Elaine's grey eyes went almost comically wide.

"I told you."

"Well, yeah. But I didn't think you were...you had a baby. You. A baby. There's more than one of you now. The world's going to explode." She held her hands up, a couple of inches between her palms. "She's tiny!"

"Not that tiny. Maggie weighs about sixteen pounds now. You should have seen her when she was born. I could have carried her around in a pocket."

"Yeah, but you've got huge pockets." Elaine moved slowly forward, approaching Maggie as if she were a strange dog. I waited for her to hold out her hand for Maggie to sniff. If she did, I wasn't going to be able to keep from laughing like a hyena. "Hi there."

Elaine touched just the tips of her fingers to the back of Maggie's hand where it lay on her thigh. I waited for the inevitable spit and scream. Maggie cooed and kicked her feet.

"You're shitting me."

Maggie and Elaine both turned their heads to look up at me. Mouse put his foot down on top of my boot and gave me a reproachful sigh. My resolve to keep swear words out of Maggie's vocabulary had taken a sharp dive on this trip.

"What?"

"She's been- the whole fucking train ride!" I threw my hands up. "You know what? Never mind. It doesn't matter. I don't care. I just want to get the hell out of this station, get to someplace with a shower and a bed that I don't have to curl up into a ball to sleep in. That's all I want."

“Okay.” Elaine stood and slid her arm through mine, the warmth of her skin seeping through my coat. I leaned into her for a second. “Let's go.”

~

“She's out.” I dropped onto Elaine's couch beside her with a small whuff and sank back into the cushions. “We've got a couple of hours before she wakes up.”

“Good. I don't know what you were talking about, Maggie seems like a really good baby.”

“She usually is. But I'm telling you, on the train, she was like a demon baby. I checked three times to make sure I hadn't gotten a changeling baby somewhere along the line. And now she's back to normal. I don't get it.”

“Maybe she didn't like the train? Cramped space, weird noises and people. Even the modern trains rumble and vibrate a little.”

“Maybe.” I sighed. “So why do I feel like she's pissed at me for taking her away from Marcone?”

“She's a baby. She doesn't know what's going on. I'm telling you, it's just all the new things she was exposed to. Maggie's not mad at you for anything.” Elaine patted my knee. “It's going to be fine. Did you want something to drink?”

“Coke?”

“Sure.” Elaine's apartment was small, probably a little bit smaller than my own even, which was saying something. But it was well lit and kind of open, lots of earth tones and greens. It fit her. She pulled two Coke's out of the icebox and brought them back, settling on the couch beside me once more.

We sat in silence for a few minutes.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” I rolled the cold can between my hands.

“It's going to be like that, is it? Do you want to talk about why you, who has never taken a vacation in her life up and decides to come out to Los Angeles? While dragging your infant daughter across the country. Not that I'm not glad to see you, but this isn't normal for you.”

I set down the Coke and stood.

“I'm kind of wiped. Do you mind if I go lay down?”

Elaine was frowning when I looked over at her, her arms crossed over her stomach.

“Fine. I'll wake you up for dinner.”

~

“You're not going in?”

“It's the ocean. I'm pretty sure there's a shark in there somewhere. I've seen Jaws. I know what happens.” I put another tower on my sand castle and patted the sides, smoothing them out. Maggie was beside me in the shade of the umbrella, flinging sand up in the air with her giant red shovel, digging a hole pretty much by accident as she did so. We'd been staying with Elaine for two weeks and she'd finally convinced me that a little sun wouldn't actually kill me.

“That was a movie, and it happened on the East Coast anyway. The water's perfectly safe.” Elaine tapped her bare foot against the sand, sending up little puffs of it. “I can't believe you're going to come to California and not even go swimming! It's a crime.”

“I don't want to swim!” I pushed the big floppy hat I'd had to buy up off my forehead and squinted up at her. “It's not a big deal.”

“Don't want your shadow to see you having any fun?” Neither one of us looked over to where George was sitting on a bench at the picnic area, pretending to read. We'd spotted him following us the first day, and I'd convinced Elaine not to throw him through the nearest building. Which is probably why Hendricks had sent him. He was the one Outfit guy I was least likely to set on fire.

“That's not it.” Elaine rolled her eyes. I couldn't see her eyes behind her sunglasses, but I was sure she was rolling her eyes at me.

“Can I at least take Maggie in? Just in the shallows.” I looked over at Maggie again. She was still flinging the sand, but she wasn't looking at it anymore. She'd turned her attention to a family down by the water, two kids running and screaming as they ran in and out of the surf. I grabbed her little hat and tugged it down to her ears, sliding the strap under her chin. Then I picked up the bottle of sunscreen. “If you put any more sunscreen on her, her skin won't be able to breathe.”

“Fine, fine. Here.” Maggie kicked as I picked her up and handed her to Elaine. “I just don't want her getting burned. Just for a minute, okay?”

Elaine was nice enough not to tell me I was being ridiculous to my face. She just walked down the beach with Maggie and crouched at the very edge of the water, letting Maggie stand as a small wave came and washed up over her legs. Maggie squealed and lifted her legs, trying to get them clear of the water. As it rolled back she dropped her feet back into the sand and babbled something up at Elaine. She didn't seem frightened, and Elaine was keeping a really good hold of her.

“I'm not being paranoid.” Mouse bumped his head into my thigh. “I'm not. The ocean's big and full of...things. Trash. Selkies. People pee in there, which is just gross. And Maggie's really small.” I don't think Mouse believed me either.

~

“This is good beer. Not Mac's beer, but it's still good.” I pressed the cold glass bottle against my nose, letting it soothe the faint burning itch there and across my cheeks.

“It's even better if you drink some of it.” Elaine waggled her own open bottle in illustration. I rolled my bottle up over my forehead.

“Right now, I think an external application is best.” My neck creaked as I leaned my head back over the edge of the couch, stretching it out. Elaine ran her fingers through my hair. “I can't believe I got a sunburn. I wore the stupid hat!”

“But you didn't put on any more sunscreen like I told you to. You had Maggie thick with the stuff and you forgot yourself.”

“Bah. She had fun. Thanks for taking her in the water.”

“Mmm. No problem.”

“He wants to marry me.”

“Marcone?”

“No. Mouse. Yes Marcone. Hell. He sort of asked me, a while back. When I was pregnant. I thought he was just making noise, you know? Some kind of latent Catholic reflex or something. I didn't think he really wanted to. Just that he thought he should. And I didn't...I mean he didn't really ask, so I just sort of...” I waggled my hand in the air.

“You blew him off.”

“I didn't blow him off! I didn't think he was serious, so I didn't take him seriously. He somehow took that to mean that I didn't want to get married, so he dropped it. So I thought it was over. But then this whole thing came up with the Denarians and while he was in the hospital I find out he's forged some fucking a marriage certificate so he can visit me when I inevitably get my ass kicked.”

Elaine's hand froze in my hair, then she started to move again, the rounded edges of her nails scraping over my scalp.

“Oh. Well, that was a douche move. That was- Why the hell did you lead with 'He wants to marry me?' He had no right to assume that kind of power over you! Did you set him on fire?”

“Nooo...I made him tear it up though. It- I still can't believe he did that.”

“I could go set him on fire. Or, well. Not set on fire. I could toss him through a wall. I'm good at that.”

“I remember.” I bumped my head against her knee. “But no. I kind of like Marcone in one piece, even after that. I appreciate the offer though. He destroyed the thing and he won't do it again. My point is-”

“I don't see how it can be more important than the fact that he went around your back and completely disregarded and overrode your wishes, but do go on and tell me what you think is the point here.”

“If you're not going to let me talk, I'll just shut up.” I set the beer down and started to rise.

“Sorry. Sorry. I'll keep my mouth shut.” Elaine pushed at my shoulders. I dropped back to the floor.

“As I was saying, I figure, he could have gotten the same results he said he wanted with the fake marriage certificate another way. So the fact that he did it that way means he must really want to get married. It's just his sneaky way of doing it without trying to ask me again because he thinks I turned him down. Which I didn't, because I didn't realize he meant it.” Elaine said nothing, but she said it with a heavily sarcastic air. “Well, once the whole shit storm is over, I say fine. Let's get married. And he says no. Because he thinks I'm not serious now.”

“Were you?”

“I don't...it's what Marcone wants. And I don't hate the idea. He's a jackass, I know, I know. But I knew that before. And it doesn't- I'm mad at him. I spent half the time after all of this wanting to punch him in the face and then shake him until he cried uncle. Then again, I spent the other half of the time wanting to crawl into bed with him and tell the world to go fuck itself. So what the hell do I know? He's not the easiest man in the world to get along with, and I'm not exactly full of grace and charm myself. We could get married and want to kill each other within a month. That's actually pretty much the way it'll go, with us involved.”

“How many relationships have you had since we were together? Not counting Marcone.” I looked up at her, confused. She leaned over, her hair falling around my face in a curtain that smelled of sunshine and the salt of the ocean. “Just answer the question.”

“Four.”

“And what if I'd come back, any time during any of those relationships? Asked you to come with me.”

“I'd have gone with you, of course.”

“Of course.” She shook her head and muttered, “I can't believe I'm doing this.” 

Then Elaine leaned down and kissed me.


	15. Chapter 15

It had been a lifetime since I'd kissed Elaine. Her lips were soft, her mouth firm against mine, the angle strange and awkward. I reached for her, my hands sliding into the sun warmed strands of her hair, gently pulling and twisting until everything was right. She didn't taste like she used to, like the beginning of summer, like promise and wild blueberries. Elaine's kiss was electric sharp, the stinging hint of lightning in the middle of a storm coming at the very end of summer, when the heat was oppressive and arousing all at once, the salt of the ocean and everything wild.

We kissed, and it wasn't the battle that every kiss with John was. It was just us, coming together, taking and giving, breathing in quick, hot pants. I sighed, or maybe she did. Maybe it was both of us, together. It didn't matter. It was Elaine. It made sense that we'd do everything together. We'd been so close we'd nearly been the same person at one point.

It was good. It was our first kiss and our thousandth kiss, all in one. And it wasn't right. Oh, it was wonderful. I could have rolled her then and there, spun us around with laughter and had sex right there on the living room floor, our bodies familiar and alien to one another. Lust and love and history. Pain and sorrow that only we knew, because we were the only ones who had survived. It wouldn't be easy. Neither of us was who we had been all those years ago. But it would be worth it, because it would be love.

Only...John.

John and Chicago and everything that those two meant to me. I'd never believed in those crystaline moments of clarity people claim to have. It was too easy to have all the answers come shining, tumbling into your head ready for the taking. So that couldn't be what was happening here. Except that I could see at least some of the answers. I loved John. Not just the parts of him I'd thought I loved, the dark, driven parts that I'd accepted because I saw an echo of myself in them, because I understood him. No, not just those parts. I loved all of him, even the parts I didn't like all that much.

I wasn't going to leave him. Not even over what he'd done, as much as it hurt and frightened me. Not even for Elaine, as much as that hurt some part of me that still clung to the childish idea that we were going to be together forever.

My hands tightened in her hair and I pressed into her mouth more firmly, nipping at her lower lip, nearly overbalancing her in the process. Elaine gasped and her hands grasped my wrists. She began to pull away and I let her go. My vision swam and her face wavered.

“I love you.” I needed her to know that, at least.

Elaine smiled and brushed an imaginary hair off of my forehead.

“I love you too.” She sat up. “But.”

“But.” I grabbed my beer and twisted it open, downing nearly half of it in one go. “I don't want to leave Marcone.”

“I know. I don't understand why, but I know. So what are you going to do?”

“Go home. Fix our lives. Much as they can be fixed, I mean.”

“You don't have to marry him to do that.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. That answer will come, one way or the other. He said no when I suggested it, but he's not the one who left. He didn't say marriage or nothing. Maybe things will go back to the way they were, and maybe it's gone beyond that. We won't know until I go home, will we?”

I glanced over at the windows and watched the clouds moving across the sky for a second. Then I nearly dropped my beer in horror.

“Uh. Oh.”

“What?” Elaine had her hand raised, the bracelet she used as a focus giving off a faint golden glow as she turned to look out the window too.

“George! Fucking-” I jumped to my feet and moved to Elaine's floor to ceiling window. Her open, curtains pushed all the way to the side window, which faced the street and beyond the street a row of apartment buildings. It took me a second to find the window of the apartment George had taken. 

I pointed at it, then made a 'come here' gesture and then I turned away and shut the curtains.

“Oh. I forgot about him.” Elaine's smile was anything but apologetic.

Five minutes later, there was a knock on Elaine's door. She checked the ward-cum-peephole and then opened the door without a word. George nodded politely and stepped on into the apartment. He knew better than to wait for an invitation.

“Hi George. I-” He cut me off. I stood there like a dummy and let him do it, because it was George. He did not interrupt people. Not ever. 

“Harry. I'm telling you right now, if you're about to tell me that you're staying here with Ms. Mallory, then you're going to have to get me into some sort of witness protection program. Because that is one message I will not be delivering.” He started to pace. Mouse poked his head out from the bedroom, where he'd been napping beside Maggie. He watched George for a second, looked at me and shook his shaggy head before he ducked back into the room. “I like you, I really do. And Ms. Mallory, ma'am, you seem very nice. And you're good with Mini K. So if you're together, then I'm happy for you both. But I like all my limbs where they are, and telling the Boss you've left him is not going to be good for my health.”

“George. George.” I finally had to step into his path and grab him on both shoulders. “George.” I shook him and he finally stopped. “Just hang on a second and let me talk. You with me?”

“Yes ma'am.” I felt more than a little bad. George was pale beneath his new tan, and he looked like he might be sick any second.

“Good news, bad news time. First, I'm not leaving Marcone. As a matter of fact, we're going to be heading back to Chicago just as soon as I can arrange the tickets.” Color ran back into his face. If he hadn't been so deadly serious about being terrified of Marcone's reaction I'd have laughed at him. In spite of what George clearly thought, I didn't think John would ever take it out on the messenger. He wasn't that kind of man.

“What's the bad news?”

“You're traveling in the same berth as Maggie and I this time.” I met Elaine's eyes over George's shoulder. We exchanged a slightly evil smile. “And Maggie doesn't like trains.”

~

“Oh thank God.” George did not actually stumble out of the train and fall to his knees to kiss the platform when we got to Union station, but he did look like he was thinking about it. I drove Maggie, still kicking and screaming, in her stroller past his slump-shouldered form and started looking for a semi-quiet corner.

True to what little pattern we'd established, as soon as I got Maggie into a corner out of the flow of traffic she accepted her binky for the first time in two days and started to soothe herself, gumming it with vicious intent. George staggered over to us a minute later.

“See? Back to normal. It's freaky!”

George stared down at Maggie.

“I take it back. She's not Mini Kaboom. Little Miss Chaos. That's what she is.” His gaze was mingled exhaustion and awe.

I stretched out my back and ran a hand through my hair. It came away with half-chewed Cheerio's stuck to my fingers.

“Oh. So that's where those got to.” I shook them off. “She was better this time. I think she might be getting used to trains.” His eyes told me he didn't believe a single word of it. Or maybe he just didn't care that it had been better, since he hadn't had to live through the first trip with Maggie. “Come on. Let's get our bags and get home. I need a shower before I go see Marcone.”

~

I wanted to get cleaned up, get my legs under me before I went to see Marcone. He came out the front door while we were still climbing up the steps.

“Harry.”

“John.” 

We stared. I could hear George behind me, fidgeting and I could see Cujo behind John. Not fidgeting, but watching the both of us, wary. Maggie was asleep in my arms. Right then. I took the two steps needed to bring me into John's personal space, then I leaned down and kissed him. It was quick and awkward, Maggie snuffling and protesting at being jostled and squeezed, but it felt good. Some of the tension in the air trickled away. 

We stepped away from each other and John looked down at Maggie.

“She looks exhausted.” His hands slid under Maggie's back and he took her from my arms, holding her rag doll limp body against one shoulder with an ease that surprised me every single time. He'd taken to fatherhood.

“She's exciting on train rides.” I ran my hand over the back of Maggie's head, then down along his shoulder, his arm. “You look good.”

“You look tired. And slightly pink.” John looked around me, to George. “If you could have everything brought up to the bedroom? Then please, go home and get some rest.”

“Sir.”

~

I rubbed the towel over my hair one last time as I walked through our bedroom and into Maggie's nursery. John was just dropping Maggie's clothes into the hamper. She was still asleep, but in her crib finally, radiating infant contentment.

“Did she wake up at all?”

“No.” John came to me, his feet silent on the carpeting. “Harry.” His hands came up to cup my cheeks. I leaned into the touch, into him and let the towel fall to the floor at our feet. My lips met his and we kissed again, with heat this time. I gripped his waist and tugged him in closer, until we were teasingly close. Not pressed together, we couldn't do that and kiss, but the flush of body heat that radiated between us was just as good.

I bit his lip, demanding. John bit me back and I laughed into his mouth. He pulled away first, green eyes black with emotion.

“Bed.” I pulled on the first button of his shirt as I said it, letting the smooth plastic slide through my fingers and pop free, baring a tiny hint of skin just below the hollow of his throat, the first few wisps of chest hair.

I left him standing there and walked over to our bed, emphasizing the sway of my hips as I went. Someone behind me made a growling sound. I turned my head to look over my shoulder. John was following, slowly. Too slowly. I undid the tie of my robe, letting it fall open, still facing away from John.

He moved faster.

John pressed against my back, his mouth against the bare back of my neck. Kisses, at first, and then a quick nip as his hands started at my hips, sliding up over my stomach, lingering over the gentle roundness of it, across my ribs until gun rough palms slid over my breasts. I shuddered and rolled my hips, my eyes falling closed. 

Hells bells, I'd missed him. I grabbed his hands and turned to face him.

“I said, 'Bed'. Now.” Without betraying any of the sense of urgency I could feel building in my chest, expanding into my stomach and lower, I turned us and shoved John away. The backs of his legs hit the bed and he dropped onto it, bouncing. I shrugged my shoulders and my robe fell to the floor.

“Harry. Let me-” I swatted at his hands as he reached for his shirt.

“No. Don't move.” John froze, then let his hands drop to the sheets beside his thighs.

Without ever taking my eyes from his face I undressed him, moving with slow but steady gestures. I touched him every chance I got, letting the tips of my fingers brush the skin of his chest as I undid each button, my palms sliding over his shoulders and down his arms as I pushed the cloth out of my way. My fingers wrapped around his wrists after I undid the cuffs, encircling and squeezing, just hard enough.

John kept his eyes on mine, wide and deliberate in their regard even as I pulled his belt free and tossed it to one side. It clattered to the floor. My hands, fingers spread, covered his pectorals. I pushed, dug my nails into the muscle there, dragged my fingers down his chest, one nail catching on a nipple where it was nestled in the thick hair. John gasped, grunted and his hips arched a fraction off of the bed. I did it again, to the other one. His eyes finally closed, clenched tight against the world.

I pulled at his slacks, fought them off of his hips and then they followed the belt. 

He was an incredible sight. John lay on his back, eyes closed, face flushed. His hair was mused, pinpricks of sweat beading on his body, his upper lip. And he was hard, a line of precome dripping down his length as it wavered and bobbed with every rushed breath. I stood between his legs for a minute, just looking. 

I cupped my breast with my left hand, dragging my fingers over the peaking nipple and rolling it, pinching hard enough to send a shivery wave of pleasure through me, straight to my sex. I moaned, deliberately, and John's eyes flew open in time to watch my right hand slip down over my stomach, my fingers twisting and curling, sliding easily into me where I was swollen and wet.

“Watch.”

John said nothing, but he nodded, once. I spread my legs a little, to get a better angle. I worked myself open, spread my lips wide and tried to fill that greedy, empty hole. The heel of my hand ground into my my clit, sparks exploding like fireworks in front of my eyes. I struggled to keep my own eyes open, to keep them on John so that we could see everything. 

It was good, so incredibly good, but it wasn't what I wanted. I wanted John, inside of me, deeper than my fingers could reach. I needed to be with him, to feel him against me.

I moaned and trailed my fingers, slick and burning hot, from inside of me, ran them over my thigh to leave a gleaming trail over the skin. 

I climbed onto the bed, crouched over him.

“John. John.” I could feel the head of him nudging against my entrance, wide enough that I would feel it as he slid inside of me, stretching me a little. I teased us both, rocking my hips, rubbing against him. His hands gripped my thighs, fingers slipping over the sweat, scrabbling to keep hold, to try and guide me down that last inch. I resisted. Once he started to fill me up, I wouldn't be able to think. I knew that. It had been too long, too much had happened. “John. My John.” My legs shook with tension. I rose until I was just kneeling over him, my hands at his waist, bracing myself. “I missed you.”

I drove my hips down and took him in, deep and hard. My head fell back, my mouth open in a groan of delight and pleasure. It felt so good, better than it had before, the stretch of him after so long. I wanted to just hold still, to savor this feeling, to catalogue it until I knew every nuance of it, until I could call it to mind with no effort at all. But I was already moving, lifting and rocking forward, letting him slip out of me just far enough that the next thrust downward could feel nearly as deep as that first.

John fought me for control, tried to guide me with his hands and his hips, the pleas that cascaded past his lips, rushing over us both in semi-coherent counterpoint to the slap of flesh and the rising crescendo of our breathing. I dug my nails into his sides, clawed at him and cursed him when I could find the breath for it.

I wanted it to last forever, to let the tidal wave of pleasure that was building up just keep growing and growing, without ever crashing over me. It was impossible though. Critical mass was reached and I rocked into him in one last smooth motion, felt him pulse inside of me, as though he were growing even larger. I came, the pleasure shattering me. Dimly, from far away I knew that I was still moving, still fucking John, bringing him with me. I could hear his shout as it mingled with mine, his hands heavy on me, holding me still.

Then it was over and I was collapsed on top of John, our bodies sticky and flushed. John grunted and rolled, moving until we were both more or less on the bed in the proper order. I waited out his fidgeting and then wrapped myself around him like an octopus. Mine. John sighed, a long suffering and amused sound. How good did it feel to hear that and not hear the undercurrent of pain that I'd had to live with for those impossible weeks before I'd gone to see Elaine.

I curled up so that I could rest my head on his shoulder.

“We need to talk Harry.” John's voice was heavy, drowsy with the aftermath of sex. I buried my face in the skin of his neck, licked at the sweat there.

“I know. It can wait until tomorrow, right?”

Another sigh, this one exasperated. And fondly amused.

“Just until tomorrow.” He kissed the top of my head, his arms coming around me and holding us together. “I missed you too.”


	16. Chapter 16

There's a quality to early morning silence, even in a house that never really sleeps. I'd checked Mickey Mouse when I woke to John leaning on an elbow and staring down at me. It was nearly three in the morning, far too early for any of this. Only that also made it the perfect time. It seemed unreal, for me, in the really early hours, as though nothing I said or did would have any real consequences. End of the witching hour and the house was quiet, hushed and anticipating. The day would really get going soon enough and everyone knew it, even in their sleep.

"They did a good job, with your ear. It doesn't look bad at all." I ran my fingers over the top of John's ear, careful not to put any actual pressure in the touch. The blood on the side of his head when we'd rescued him and mainly been from the bite wound on that ear. One of the Denarians had gnawed at his ear. It had looked awful, at first, even after they'd cleaned it up and stitched the torn flesh and skin back together. Swollen and red. It had looked about as painful as I supposed it had felt. It was much better, but I was sure it was sensitive. I still couldn't help touching it.

Marcone never complained about it. That wasn't something he did. His hair had gotten longer while we'd been gone, so that it was just barely covering the tip of his ear and the worst of the damage. I liked it, the new length. Gave me something to hold onto.

John reached across my body without moving his head from my chest and snagged my left wrist, his fingers barely touching the frozen waves of scar tissue on my arm. I couldn't really feel the touch, not over most of the skin. There were a couple of spots where the nerves must have been less damaged or something, though. They had recovered some feeling and even the gentlest touch against them in the sea of dull not-feeling sent almost painful sensation through me. John did his best to avoid them, unless we were teasing. He danced around them now.

Well.

I opened my mouth and closed it a couple of times, trying to get started. The words didn't want to come. Hell. I'd made up my mind about this that last night with Elaine. I was not going to chicken out now. I wasn't. It wasn't that big a deal. I just needed to say it, and have it done and that would be the end of it. John needed to know this. Just this.

"I'm going to say this once. And then we're never going to talk about it again. We're not even talking about it now, okay?" I took a breath, a little shaky, which was stupid, and kept going before John could say anything. "Justin was a control freak. I mean, beyond just control freak on a normal level. He ran everything in our lives. Everything. What we ate, how much, when, our clothes, our friends, which meant we didn't have any, what we read, where we went. There weren't any locks on any of the doors in the house except for his lab.

"It wasn't- that's not why I killed him. Justin was better than a lot of the foster homes I'd been in, and he cared about us in his own way." John's hand had stopped moving over my arm. He was very still against me. "Then he tried to take over my mind. He did get into Elaine's head. That's why I killed him. To save us. I kind of sucked at it, the saving thing, but he didn't get me." I shivered, suddenly cold, and wished we weren't lying on top of the sheets. Stupid air conditioning was set too high. I'd have to get up in a second and make sure Maggie was covered so she didn't get too cold.

"Harry, you don't- you were a child."

"I was sixteen. I should have been faster. Better. Elaine suffered for years because of my screw up. She's still suffering. Shut up. I'm not done. I loved Justin, and I killed him for what he did to her and what he tried to do to me. It was self defense - I didn't want to hurt him, but he didn't really leave me a choice. I love you, John. I don't want to hurt you and I don't want to leave. But I will, if you make me. I won't run, and I won't leave Chicago again. If you try and take over my life I will leave. And if you push it I will burn your empire to the ground around you. It'll kill part of me, but don't think for one second I won't do it. I've killed the people I love before."

John moved, sliding up my body and over, until he was crouched low over me so that his breath was a warm breeze over my face, not pinning me down, but there, his weight something more than physical. He lifted one hand and brushed at my cheek, his expression a mixture of things I couldn't sort out.

"I'm sorry."

"I don't care if you're sorry, Marcone. Sorry doesn't mean shit in the end." Which didn't stop the stupid little flutter of relief in my chest. I stomped on it. "I want you to swear you'll never do anything to circumvent my will again. Never. Not to me or Maggie, even if you think it's 'for the best'. Fucking well talk to me and I'll do my best not to be an unreasonable asshole."

"I'm still sorry. And I swear I won't do anything of the sort to you, or to our daughter. I'll swear it to you by Chicago if you like, or anything else that will convince you. I didn't know. If I had-"

"That's enough." I arched my neck and lifted my head high enough to butt him in the nose with my forehead gently. "Shut up. Discussion over." He didn't move, didn't laugh like I'd meant him to. When I dropped my head back to the mattress his face was closed off, his eyes serious.

I sighed and moved, shoved at his side. John let me push him off of me, rolling to his knees and then dropping down cross legged beside me. I rolled over and gave him my back, then rolled out of the bed and started searching for my robe. It had crawled under the bed somehow.

I pulled it on and headed for Maggie's room. It was warmer in there, and Maggie was sleeping peacefully, turned sideways in the crib so she had to scrunch up to fit. Such a weird baby. I pulled the blanket back over her anyway and headed back to bed.

John was lying there, watching the doorway. I crawled back into bed, beneath the covers this time. 

“It's not some way to get a collar and a leash on you Harry. Marriage, I mean. It wouldn't give me any power over your life that you don't want it to.” I stared at the ceiling and didn't say anything. “It's, for us, it would be a joining of equals. A 'balanced stalemate between equal adversaries'. I'm not asking you for anything. I'm only asking that you consider it.” Hah. I knew he'd been reading my books. He curled into my side, one hand on my stomach and pretended to go immediately to sleep. I didn't bother, he would have known I was awake. God dammit.

~

Michael was working his way over those parallel bars that they use for physical therapy. The ones that are waist height for you to hold on to while you walk? They probably had a proper name, but I'd be damned if I knew what the hell it was. He was sweating and shaking, his teeth bared in an expression that was more grimace than smile. But he was moving both of his legs, even if it wasn't a smooth, careless movement. Michael had to think about each step, but fuck it. He was taking them.

“You can wait here. Mr. Carpenter's therapy should be over in the next couple of minutes.”

“Thanks.” I sat down in one of the comfortable chairs off to the side of the therapy room and waved when Michael's eyes tracked over to me. He didn't nod, but I thought his grimace was a little more of a smile than it had been before. Maggie, strapped into her stroller so she couldn't pull another Houdini and slide out one of the damn thing again, eyed the giant exercise balls with near religious awe.

Twenty minutes of stretching, grunting and spots where I'd have been cursing like a sailor later, the nurse wheeled Michael over to us, soaked with sweat and pale, but smiling for real. I jumped up and hugged him.

“Welcome back, Harry.” His voice was strong in my ear, his arms firm around my back. 

“You're looking good, Michael.”

“Are those freckles on your nose?” Michael smiled, but I could see the exhaustion in the corners of his eyes. I rubbed one finger across the bridge of my nose.

“I got a little sun.”

The nurse cleared his throat from behind Michael.

“Michael. Ma'am. Would you like to move to your room? Or the common room?”

I grabbed hold of Maggie's stroller. “Your room, Michael?”

“That's probably best, yes.”

Michael had a private room. It made it easier for Charity and the kids to visit and it made security easier to handle too. Once he had Michael settled into a chair beside the bed with a cane nearby the nurse left us alone. Maggie was busily playing with her snacks on the stroller tray, making burbling sounds as she pushed the soft cookie pieces around.

“I'm sorry.” I pulled a chair over close to Michael and sat close enough that our knees almost touched.

“Harry.” Michael's tone was chiding and he patted my knee. A fond older brother to his silly sister. Thomas had a tone terrifyingly similar, only he tended to use it when I was blowing things up, or mocking something that was about to eat my face. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I am- I was a Knight of the Cross. Laying down my life in that service was always a possibility. Thanks to God, I am still alive.” He paused and smiled a little ruefully. “Well, God and Ms. Gard's mercenary friends. I know that their quick medical assistance played a good part in my survival.”

“You were there because of me and my family. You got hurt helping us. I'm sorry and you can't stop me from feeling guilty over it. And I'm sorry I left. I should have stayed around and made sure you were going to be okay.”

“Charity said you had some issues with the Paranet you needed to see to. You stayed until I was secure here. Harry, you've nothing to apologize for.” He shifted, carefully, and leaned into the back of the chair more heavily. “Now, what did you want to talk about?”

“I can't just come visit my friend? How have you been?”

Michael gave me another tired, understanding smile and we talked about his therapy and his recovery for a long time. Long enough for Maggie to get tired and drift off.

“-eventually be able to walk again with a cane. Which brings me to something I wanted to discuss with you.”

“I've got Amoracchius locked up in my lab with Fidelacchius. The Guard keeps watch on the place and my wards are up and running at full strength. With me living at Marcone's, if anyone trips to the fact that I've got them, they'll assume that they're there, or locked up in some safe room somewhere. Even if someone figured out where the swords are being kept, they can't get in. As soon as you're up and running, I'll bring it on over.”

“Harry. Harriet.” He shook his head. “My days as a Knight are over. I didn't have Sanya give you the Sword temporarily. It's in your keeping, as is Fidelacchius. Until someone else is called.”

“Are you sure? There hasn't been the smallest twinge of a clue for what I'm supposed to do with Fidelacchius.”

“It's His Will. When the time is right, you will know who to give the Swords to. I trust Him, and I trust you.”

“That's great. If you've still got any clout, you could maybe ask him to be clear when he does decide to send directions.”

“I'll relay the message. I wouldn't hold your breath though. Mysterious ways are something of a trademark for Him.”

“It's annoying.” I looked over at Maggie. She was still asleep. Not deeply, but a light nap. Which meant she'd be up to all hours. Babies. “I've got a weird question for you. How did you know you wanted to marry Charity? How did you two...how did you figure out...everything?”

“Well, I saved her from a dragon. That does tend to engender a great deal of leeway for stupidity.” He chuckled. “We fought. The first six or seven months, there wasn't a single bone of contention between us. Charity was...she was perfect, I guess. Trying to fit into my life, I know now. But at the time, I was stumblingly flattered that this beautiful, smart woman was interested in even speaking to me.

“One weekend, I don't even remember what started it, we fought. It was something minor, I'm sure, and if we'd been honest with each other, it wouldn't have amounted to anything. But all the tension that had been beneath the surface, all the stress Charity was keeping inside from trying to be this perfect, domestic and docile woman exploded out and we yelled at one another. We said- we said some very unkind things. And the truth came out. How Charity really felt about some of the things my parents expected of her.” He looked up at me, his blue eyes dark. “I don't think I've ever really spoken of them to you. They were very strict, very old fashioned. They meant well, but. But. They wanted Charity to be some ideal Catholic house wife, and I thought that's what I wanted as well. Until I met the real Charity, while we were yelling. That's when I realized that I didn't want some younger version of my mother. I just wanted Charity. Strong, opinionated and smart. Beautiful.”

“You and Charity yelled? At the same time? My world is askew.”

“We're not perfect, in spite of the image you have of us. Charity and I have fought. Quite a few times, we've fought over you.” I stuck my tongue out at him and felt mature. “My point is, I knew then that no matter what happened, no matter what was thrown at us, that I wanted to give myself to Charity and I could only hope that she wanted to have me. As luck would have it, she did. It's never been easy, but we both decided that we were worth it.

“There's not a formula or an easy answer to this Harry. Is John pressing you to marry him?” I smiled at the hardness that slid into his voice. Michael had, as was his nature, forgiven John for the Shroud thing and was overlooking the criminal scum issue. That didn't mean John was on his favorite top ten people list though.

“No. We had a fight. About a thing. It's fixed now, so it's all good. There's just,” I waved my hands around vaguely. “He wants to get married. He's not pushing. Hell, I told him we could, and he turned me down. But it keeps coming back to me. I can't just forget about it. And it doesn't...I want John. I don't want to see him with anyone else. He's my criminal, you know? I know him. More freakishly, he knows me, and he still wants to be with me. Wants to tie himself to me for forever as far as he's concerned.” I frowned. “There's something wrong with him, isn't there?”

“I've long thought so, but I don't think that's why he wants to marry you. That's not the important question. Why he wants to marry you. That's a known quantity. The question you have to answer is, do you want to marry him? However that comes about. A civil ceremony, a wedding Mass,” To Michael's credit, he didn't give the Mass option any more emphasis or inflection than he did anything else in the sentence. “Some other kind of ceremony. Or a private vow between the two of you. The question is, do you want to make it that formal?”

“It's not a loss of power. For one partner over the other. That's what Marcone thinks anyway. That we can still be us and be husband and wife at the same time. We fight. I don't think we can be married and not lose what makes us work.”

“You don't get married and have a personality transplant. I told you, Charity and I still argue. We remain ourselves, together. I don't overrule Charity, and she doesn't overrule me. We're a team. That's marriage, the way it should be.”

“Ugh.” I dropped my head into my hands. Long forgotten fantasies of princess weddings acted out with Elaine danced through my head, the images, goofy as they were, tugging at me. I'd wanted the whole shebang, when I was a kid. Even after, for a long while. Shit. 

“If it helps, you can think of it this way. You're already married, essentially. All that remains is a ceremony, which you don't have to have, and some paperwork. How bad could it be?”

“Have you met us? It's going to be bad. Very, very, very bad. Such a bad idea.” I flopped back into the chair. “Well, hell. It's not the first terrible idea I've had.”

Michael smiled and the room got a little brighter.

“Don't be smug. It's unbecoming in a Knight of the Cross.”

“I'm retired. I can be as smug as I like now.”

“There's a perk.”

“I take them where I can get them.”


	17. Chapter 17

Making the decision wasn't easy by any stretch, and once it had been made, I found myself at a loss for what to do about it now that it had been decided. Even after my talk with Michael, I dithered around for a week or so. It was one thing to say, in my head, that I wanted to marry John. It was another to say it out loud, or to know how to convince him. I'd already tried just asking, and that hadn't gone well at all. Admittedly, the timing had been bad, and I hadn't really meant it. He'd been right about that. I was pissed and off balance, flailing around trying to grab something, anything. Now I'd made the decision clear, but that still left me with the problem of how I was going to convince him.

So I concentrated on everything else. There were plenty of things to think about after all.

Maggie's first birthday, for one. I didn't intend to have a party. I mean, hells bells, she was one. She wasn't going to remember it, so the party would just be for the adults and did we really need an excuse to get together? Apparently, the answer to that was yes. And apparently no child of John Marcone's was going to have a birthday and not have a party. 

In the end, I figured it was harmless, like letting John send me those clients every so often. The little old Italian grandma's who wanted a strega to bless their house or get rid of the demonic squirrel. No. Seriously. Actually, that squirrel had been a tough little bastard. Did not want to hold still long enough for me to exorcise the spirit that had taken a wrong turn and gotten stuck in his little head. It had also discovered a pathological love of nuts, but that wasn't a problem I was prepared to tackle. I'd gotten him out though, eventually, and gotten a bite and rabies shots for my trouble.

I refused to charge the women, but it helped expand my network of contacts and it kept Marcone happy, thinking he was getting one over on me and 'helping'. Also, it meant I had a fairly steady supply of pizzelle and other really delicious pastries, and about a million years worth of blackmail information on half the guys in the outfit. Grandma's know everything, and they never forget.

So I decided to let John throw his little party, though I ragged on him the entire time. Really. One. No one year old needs a party. In Marcone's favor, he promised to kept it small and not insane. Relatively speaking, I mean. I should have asked relative to what. I also should have been more suspicious when John brought home a new dress and asked really, really nicely if I'd wear it. He'd asked from his knees, right after he'd relocated all my blood from my brain. I should have known something was up then.

I tried to keep that in mind as I dodged the third little bald guy of the afternoon, my pulse throbbing behind my temples. That I'd let him do this, thinking I was indulging him in a harmless whim. Bastard. All of John's political friends were there, mixed in with our real friends. It was kind of mind breakingly amusing to watch Billy and Georgia rubbing elbows with the Mayor, or Butters explaining the greatness of polka to someone I was pretty sure was a Senator. Murphy's head was about to explode, seeing all the politicians rubbing elbows with all the high level mob guys. I'd asked George to sort of hang with her, hopefully keep her from kicking anyone's ass up into their skull. Hopefully. Last I'd seen of them they were over at one corner table, heads bent together over some paper and a pen they'd found, drinking some of the beer I'd gotten from Mac.

Maggie was alternating between having a blast with all the attention and being exhausted. She wasn't used to all the activity, all the people around her. I'd left her with the Carpenter's while I went searching for John. Little Harry, who I had thought would be way too old to want anything to do with a baby was fascinated with Maggie. He played with her with patience way beyond what a six year old should have and brought her anything she seemed to express an interest in. Little Harry had also, apparently, appointed himself as Maggie's bouncer/bodyguard. When she started fussing he started doing his best to run off whoever was hanging around at the time.

It was adorable, and I'm not ashamed to admit it.

I finally spotted John standing by the doors that led out onto the back patio, next to the- fuck me. It was an ice sculpture. I paused long enough to stare and do a face palm for good measure. John. John, John, John, John, John. I was going to smack him with one of the balloon animals that were serving as centerpieces. The headache I'd been ignoring spiked. Small. Quiet. Bullshit. The man was full of bullshit.

“John Marcone!” I came up the steps toward him at something a little under a charge. After all, there were people in the vicinity. Lucky him. John turned away from the men he was talking to, people I didn't recognize. The first man was tall, about John's height with dark hair and brown eyes, wearing a really, really nice suit. He quirked one eyebrow at me as I approached and I could feel him assessing me. Not the usual, 'oh, there's a woman, let's check out her boobs' look either. This one was professional, nearly on Marcone's level. 'Human being – can I use them, yes or no?' With all pertinent available information catalogued and filed away for later review within minutes.

“Ah, Harry.” John slid an arm around my waist and tugged me into his side. I kicked him in the ankle and dug my fingers into his hand. He winced but didn't lose the smile. “Harvey, this is Harry.” The man leaned forward, his hand outstretched. I took it and shook, squeezing. Harvey's eyes narrowed and he squeezed back.

“Harvey Specter. And this is my associate, Mike Ross.” The second, slightly smaller man stepped forward. He wasn't dressed quite as nicely as his friend, but he was cute. Dark hair, blue eyes. Something about him made me think 'puppy' really, really loudly. I stopped trying to crush Harvey's hand and took Mike's more gently. He was too adorable to kick.

“Nice to meet you ma'am.” Ooh. So cute, and yet. I patted his hand and let him go.

“Harry, please. I'm not old enough to be a ma'am to you. Nice to meet you both.” I turned to look at John. “John. I thought you said the party was going to be 'small'. I believe the word you used was 'minimal'.” I waved my hand at the masses of people milling around the house. “How is this 'small'? Does it mean something else in your tongue?”

“This is small.”

“Really?” I leaned in to whisper in his ear. “So you can't be offended if I tell you that you have a small dick then. If this is 'small'.” Mike made a strangled sound and when I looked at him he was going bright red trying to keep the laughter in. Harvey was sighing and shaking his head. I hadn't been that loud, had I?

“Is he going to be okay?”

“Eventually. Mike has excellent hearing. What on earth did you say to John here?” Harvey thumped his friend once on the back and grinned, humor dancing in his eyes that didn't have a reflection in his mouth. Yeah. He reminded me a whole lot of Marcone. 

“Nothing you need to hear.” John cut him off with a look that absolutely failed to cow the man in the least, his tone hard. “Compared to the birthday party the Clotworthy's threw for their new son last year, this is miniscule. I thought you understood the expectations we were dealing with. I did explain try to explain the scope-”

I ground my teeth in frustration. Now that he mentioned it, he had given me some speech about social positions and what people expected to see, maintaining the cover, yadda. This had been after a particularly long night spent back at my apartment in the lab with Molly. There'd been an accident and we'd spent hours trying to contain the tiny, newly animated figurines that were meant to be used with Little Chicago. I looked back at the sea of people in the house. “When are they all leaving?”

“Another hour. There'll be cake first.”

“Oh goody.” I sighed and faced Mike and Harvey again. “So, how long have you two been together?” I could make small talk. And if I was just talking to these two, I could avoid everyone else for a while.

Mike went red, then pale white. Harvey just stared at me, his eyebrows making a break for his hairline.

“We're not together, Harry. Mike is my associate. We work together at Pearson Hardman in New York.”

“Oh.” I looked back and forth between the two of them. They were standing way, way too close for just coworkers, and Mike still hadn't returned to a normal shade. Well, if they worked together and Mike worked under Harvey, I could see them keeping it quiet. But no way in hell were they 'just friends'. But still. Bringing him on a personal visit? “You bring a lot of coworkers to infant baby parties?”

“It's a business trip. Mr. Marcone is one of my favorite clients, and Pearson Hardman is looking at opening up a satellite office in Chicago.”

The conversation stalled there and I wished for a drink and a nice, quiet room with a door that locked. Maybe I could snag Maggie and slip away? No one would notice if the party girl wasn't there. Hell, they'd probably appreciate it.

Just then, a high, clear and very familiar little voice rose over the rest of the noise in the room.

“'ARRY!” And then a rising shriek that resolved itself into, “MAMA!” Repeated over and over again at the top of her lungs.

“Oh hells.” The four of us looked at each other. I shrugged and headed off through the crowd. Saved by the cranky baby. Excellent timing Maggie.

Later that night, with everyone gone and the house ours again I smacked John upside the head with a small pillow. He laughed and caught the second blow. We fell into bed and, well. The party hadn't been that bad.

I'd gotten to see Maggie smash her piece of cake into mush and fling it at anyone within reach. Including Marcone and his little friend, Harvey. Absolutely worth the headache.

~

Murphy and I took on a couple of cases, nothing too strange. Weird lights in the sky over someone's house – a clan of wyldfae had become convinced that the copious collection of lawn gnomes the wife had collected were fae prisoners turned to stone. They'd been trying to find a counter spell to set them free. Or Mrs. Myles, who kept attracting wandering spirits. I'd referred her to Mort. Ghosts were not my thing, not unless I was trying to exorcise them and she didn't want that. Felt sorry for the poor dears. Some lost items, a lost dog, things like that. My usual bread and butter. 

I gave her four days before I started poking.

“So...how's George?”

Murphy stopped humming and looked up from the report she was filling out. Lost gargoyle. Don't ask.

“I don't know. He's your flunky, why don't you ask him how he is?”

“I don't have to ask him. I saw him just this morning. And the hickey. Very nice work by the way.”

I twirled my pen around at the end of my fingers and smiled. She started writing again, pressing a little too hard and tearing the paper.

“He's nice, and he makes me laugh.”

“He's also part of the Outfit, Murph. You remember that, right? Not even just some low level flunky who doesn't know anything. He's up there.”

“I'm not a cop anymore.”

“Not officially, no. But you're still you. And George is career criminal. I don't want to see either one of you hurt.”

Murphy dropped her pen and leaned back in the chair, rocking it back onto its rear legs. “Seriously? You're giving me relationship advice?”

“It's not really advice. I'm not telling you what to do. Just...warning? Concerned? You're both my friends and if you start fighting, I'll pout.”

“We're just having fun Harry. Fun. I'm sure you can remember what that is if you try. Come on. It's not anything serious. Sometimes you just have to go for it.”

“You say so.” I let her pick up her pen and start writing again. “How's Kincaid?” I ducked the pen when she threw it at me, laughing.

Go for it. Okay, fine. Simple might be the best answer. It was as good an idea as any.

Murph and I wrapped up the paperwork and when the work day ended I turned Murphy's invitation to dinner down and headed over to Marcone's latest office. He moved around most of the time, his only permanent office was in Executive Priority but he only used that when there wasn't any other space available. It made it harder for the wrong people to track him down.

He was currently set up in the basement of something that was going to be expensive office space but was little more than a shell at the moment except for the cafeteria space that the construction workers were using. They'd all gone home by the time the Blue Beetle and I rattled into the parking lot, but Marcone's sedan was still there with Paul leaning against the hood. We exchanged nods and I headed on into the building.

“Harry. Is something wrong?” John and Hendricks were the last two people in the building, which was what I'd expected. Marcone rose from behind his desk and came toward me, his features controlled, his movements smooth and sure. He was ready for action, as always.

“No. No. Nothing's wrong! Can we talk for a second?” I took his arm and tugged him down to the opposite end of the room, out of Hendricks' hearing.

“What is it?”

“Okay.” I grabbed the nervous, twisting feeling in my stomach and stomped on it. “Um.” Just go for it. Simple. He wanted this, so did I. It shouldn't be a big deal. “I want to get married. To you. So let's do that.”

John stared at me for a long second, then laughed. Dammit!

“No, hey, I'm serious here! I'm asking you to marry me you asshole!”

“Harry.” He grabbed my arms and tugged me forward, stretching up to kiss my cheek. “You don't need to do this.” A quick squeeze of his fingers and then he stepped away, smiling. I didn't miss the fact that the smile didn't make it to his eyes. Son of a- fuck him.

“I'm not doing anything. I am really, honestly, legitimately asking you if you will marry me. I don't get why you're not listening here. I thought that you wanted to get married. So now I'm saying I want to too, and you're just blowing it off!”

“I am not blowing it off. It's not so simple as you just changing your mind Harry. Too many things have changed. I don't-” He hesitated and I knew he was thinking about the thing we were never speaking of. “It's not the time to be making decisions like that. Let's just give ourselves some time.” And by 'ourselves', I knew he meant me.

Screw that. I'd decided. I didn't want any more time. 

Simple wasn't working, obviously. So I needed a new plan.

~

I knew of exactly two marriages that had worked out. The Carpenters' and my parents'.

Michael's proposal, apart from the whole dragon slaying thing, had been simple. He'd bought a ring, dropped to one knee on the front lawn of the apartment building Charity was living in and that was that. I was fresh out of dragons, though I had killed some demons not too long ago, and I'd tried simple. That left my parents, and I had no clue how that had happened.

How on earth had my father, who was handsome enough, and sweet, but hardly sophisticated or powerful, managed to convince my mother to marry him? It was one of those things I'd wondered about, once I was old enough to understand that my parents hadn't just always existed as a unit until I'd come along and separated them forever.

I loved my father with the simple, pure light of childhood and that wouldn't ever change. That didn't mean I didn't know perfectly well, as an adult, that he had not been perfect. That he'd been idealistic and naïve. Ignorant. Child-like. But good. Whatever that meant. My mother I knew only in fragments, the stories that people told me. They weren't good, for the most part. Margaret LaFey had been stubborn, driven. Dark. She'd defied the Council, something I had great sympathy for, and consorted with powers that most would call evil, something I had less sympathy for.

And she'd given that all up, left all the power behind to live on the run with a simple, powerless magician who wanted nothing more in the world than to make children happy.

However he'd proposed, it must have been a doozy.

I needed a new plan, and I thought the seeds of a plan might be found in whatever magic my father had worked to charm my quixotic mother into marrying him. I wished, with the ease of long habit, something that did nothing to ease the pang of pain that always accompanied thoughts of them, that my parents were still alive. I could have used their advice.

Barring that, I needed someone who had known them. Known one of them anyway, and known her very well. 

Life being what it is, which is complicated and very rarely convenient, I couldn't carve out the time to head down to Lake Michigan for a few days. Mouse and I left Maggie sleeping and John working and drove down to the shore, to a little spit of land I'd used before. 

I walked out to the farther point and stood, looking out over the night black ice of the lake. The call I sent out was a beckoning, an invitation. Never a demand. The Leanansidhe was one of the most powerful sidhe in the Winter Court. You did not piss someone like that off if you had another choice.

A few minutes passed and the wind kicked up, forcing me to shield my eyes. When I could see again, my godmother sat in front of me in one of a pair of chairs crowded up close to a fire that put out far too much heat for its size, the area around the chairs and the fire now completely free of snow.

“Harry, my dear. Come, have a seat.”

“Lea.” I took the empty chair. Mouse sat on his haunches at my feet. “Godmother, I would like to talk to you about my mother.”


	18. Chapter 18

“Your mother?” Lea smoothed her hands down the front of her skirt and smiled, bright red lips shining in the firelight. There was a long beat of silence as she thought. “There is somewhat of her that you are entitled to know.”

I leaned forward and then settled back. Information that I was entitled to? Entitled under what? But it never paid to let the sidhe know that you didn't know what the hell was going on. Actually, that was a pretty good rule for dealing with humans too. Fake competency and comprehension when all else fails.

“Would the tales of how my parents met and how my father convinced my mother to marry him fall into that realm?”

“Aspects of it. Is that what you want to hear?” Lea laughed, music that echoed over the ice. “I have imagined many times you coming to me with questions about your mother. This was not amongst the questions I thought you might ask.” She shrugged. “There's no guessing at mortal desires.

“I will tell you what I can, and no more. If the information you seek is not there, then we may negotiate for further knowledge. Will that suit?”

“That will suit me just fine, godmother.”

“Then let us begin.” I nodded and tried not to show the eagerness that I was feeling. The little tinge of emotion that told me I'd finally feel connected to my mother. It was a lie I'd told myself for too many years. There was no story, no keepsake or place that would ever make me feel like I knew her the way I would have if she'd lived. If she hadn't been murdered. But still. I knew so little about my parents. My father, for all that he had been a seemingly open and loving man, had never wanted to speak of my mother. I think it had hurt too much, so he said nothing. Maybe it had even been an attempt to keep me from longing for a woman I would never know. If that had been the plan, it hadn't worked. And once he'd died, there had been no one else for me to ask.

“It's a simple enough story, I suppose. Your mother was on the run. She had escaped from the thrall of that creature that calls itself Lord Raith. Margaret ran into the Nevernever to escape from his servants. She killed most of them within the first few days, but one was more clever than the others. He dodged all the traps she left and kept on her trail.

“Eventually Margaret crossed back into the mortal world to lose him. I followed her and we came out in I a small town in Iowa. They were having a fair, so we lost ourselves in the mortal crowd. It hampered the vampires ability to attack us should he make it through the last trap we had set.” Lea smiled, her teeth sharp and bright against the red of her lips once more. “We never did see that one again. 

“Your father was traveling with the entertainers, setting up a little tent for his magic show. Margaret and I spent a few hours there that first day. There was something about him that drew her. I've never known what, and she couldn't explain it to me when I asked. When he realized we had no place to sleep he offered his tent.” My godmother shook her head. “Margaret thought that was unbearably sweet. The next day he went off on his own before the carnival opened to perform his tricks at a retirement home. Margaret went with him. That was the end of it. When the carnival pulled out, we were with them.”

“'We'? You went traveling with a human roadshow?” I didn't bother trying to keep my disbelief out of my voice. Mouse whuffed a doubtful sounding noise from near my knees.

“No, I traveled with Margaret. She traveled with Malcolm who traveled with the rest of the humans.” She crossed her legs at the knees, a weirdly prim set to her body. “I enjoyed myself, have no fear. They were such a creative bunch of souls. Rare enough in this day, to find those who follow the old roads. I hadn't had such a feast in a century or more. So many talents just looking for a little inspiration.” Lea's expression was one I recognized from having it aimed at me more than once. Hunger and a pleasant remembrance of feeding. I shivered and dug my short nails into the palms of my hands. Dealing with Lea was always like walking through a mine field of memories and reactions.

"I was hardly going to leave Margaret on her own so soon after her escape in any case." Lea's expression changed, became something quiet and unexpected. She'd been worried about my mother and had hung around to make sure she was safe. I didn't think she'd ever admit it, but I was sure of it. She'd cared for my mother, not just found her an amusing diversion. That was...weird. For the sidhe anyway. "As I said. We traveled with the group, and when Malcolm decided that it was time to leave them to strike out on his own, we went with him."

I was having a really strange image of my dad, the vague 'mom' shaped shadow I'd invented over the years and Lea running around like members of the Scooby gang. Lea was Scooby, Mom was Daphne and Dad was Shaggy if you're curious. Only in this case Daphne and Shaggy got it on.

"As for your second question, he did not. Margaret asked me to leave them alone for a week, which I did. Malcolm was sweet. He had such talent, but no ambition; I was more than willing to include him in our bed when Margaret asked."

I was so glad I wasn't drinking anything. Hells bells. I was not thinking about it. I wasn't. There are some things a child never, ever needed to know about her parents. Lea continued on with contentment in her voice, ignoring my flush of embarrassment. "But sweet is not really for me, you understand. Not as a steady diet. When I returned, Margaret and Malcolm had wed. We... celebrated." I was very much not thinking about that part either. Lea melted into her chair, a languid and pleased mien in her entire body. 

"Mom never said what happened?"

"I never asked, child. Why should I care? It was not a political match, nor one for power. I believe that Margaret made her choice for affection, strange as that is. Not precisely traditional, but what can you do? She was rather strong willed. Now, you, dear godchild, have made a much better choice."

"Hey, hey wait! I didn't start sleeping with Marcone because he's got money or power! I did it because-" Lea was laughing too hard to really hear me, so I stopped talking and waited her out.

"Whether you admit that it entered your thinking or not Harry, you chose a companion who is as close to your equal as you could find in the mortal world. I do not believe that was an accident. If he had been a pauper, or someone who needed you to lead him about by the hand you never would have seen him. You desire power. Strength. Someone you don't have to look out for all of the time. An equal. All of your lovers have been strong in their own ways. I'd have preferred someone with a bit more magical talent, but young Maggie doesn't seem to have suffered for her father's lack.”

“You're not helping.” I scrubbed my hands over my face. I could ask more questions, but if Lea didn't know who had proposed, or how they'd convinced the other then it was useless. And just hearing about how happy my parents had been was pointless. They'd been happy, then they'd died. I knew that much already.

“What are you looking for here? Guidance? Memories? I can provide both, though you may not like what I say, or what I show you. I can tell you how your parents met, or how they fought when your father found Margaret bandaging up a wound she received fighting off a demon. He did not understand what she was, what she did. He loved her, but he did not know her. Your mother sought something pure and simple. She found it in your father. That was enough for them. Are you unhappy with your Baron?”

“No. I'm happy with Marcone. I-” I bit the inside of my cheek. Lea wasn't remotely human. But she was family. If I didn't ask her I would have to ask Thomas for advice. His would be even worse. So. “I'm trying to convince him to marry me. And it's not going so well. I thought if I knew how my parents got together that it would...I don't know. Point me in the right direction. But if you don't know then no one does.”

Lea snapped her fingers and the furniture vanished, dumping me on my ass in the snow. I yelped and jumped up, dusting myself off and glaring at my godmother. She stood there, her arms crossed and frowned at me.

“Imitation equals mediocrity. It is a sure path to failure, god daughter. I am disappointed in you.”

“Really? You're disappointed that I wanted some tips?”

Lea snorted and the fire went out in a flurry of snow.

“I am disappointed that you cannot figure it out on your own. You're a wizard. You're my god daughter. The daughter of Margaret LeFay. If you cannot convince a mortal to marry you when you wish to wed him, then you are not applying yourself. Start with traditional methods.” Lea smiled and clapped her hands together. “In the mean time, I should get started. So much to do.”

“Hey! Do what?! Dammit!” I shouted into the empty dark of the lake. Lea was gone, not even a ripple of power to mark her disappearance. Mouse chuffed, got up and headed back toward the car. “Traitor! Don't think I've forgotten how you and Mister sided with Marcone on the whole pregnancy test thing. I'm starting to think you've switched sides permanently.” Mouse was the more mature of the two of us, as usual, and didn't respond. “Shit. 'Traditional'. Like, what? Club him over the head and drag him back to my cave?” 

As I walked through the snow I mulled it over. Clubbing Marcone over the head wasn't that bad an idea, actually. Okay, no. It was a bad idea. Cujo would take offense probably. And honestly, dragging Marcone up all the steps to the bedroom was just way too much effort. But traditional. Well. Maybe that wasn't a bad idea.

I didn't club Marcone over the head when I got back to the house. I didn't need to. He was practically sleep...filing? Paper working? Bureaucratizing? It was four in the morning and he was writing scribbles while trying to fill out some sort of paperwork. I just stole his pen and led him up to bed.

Four hours after that I was munching on a donut and sipping coffee with Murphy in the office. Murph was putting together the evidence we'd collected on a divorce case for the client. Usually I didn't do divorces, but it had been referred by Nick since he thought there was some magical malfeasance going on. One of the problems in the marriage was the pre-teen son and the sudden writing on the walls of the house in blood. The voices out of thin air and the knicknacks whipping themselves at peoples heads were kind of an issue too. 

The poor kid had a little talent, and a little bit of whatever it was that made Mort so attractive to ghosts. He'd woken up a dormant spirit in his house and the thing had worked itself up to poltergeist levels of annoyance. Murphy'd taken care of the investigative work that didn't involve spirits trying to rip your head off and I'd gotten rid of the ghost. I'd already written up my report on the boy and turned it in to the Council. I thought he was a pretty good candidate to be on the Council one day if he got the right training.

I grabbed my second donut and worked on the list I was making. I had a plan. It was better than my previous plans at least. Sort of a war of attrition. I'd just wear John down. Murphy thumped her pen up beneath my hand and sent sprinkles flying off of my donut. 

“Hey!”

“Hey what? You're not really going to eat that, are you?” Murphy had refused my generous offer to share my donuts and had eaten a cereal bar with the air of a virtuous woman.

“Yes, yes I am. I bought it. Unless you've changed your mind?” I waved the donut under her nose. She wrinkled it up, a habit that made me want to pinch her cheeks and make cooing sounds at her, and pushed the donut away. “Then I'm going to eat it. Starving wizard here.”

“Wizard biology is a bunch of shit.”

“Jealousy is an ugly thing Murph. I can't help it. I burn up a lot of calories when I'm knocking buildings down.”

“Uh-huh. Maybe you should cut out the property damage then?” She reached across the desk and tugged at my list. I let her take it. No more secrets from Murphy if I could help it. Plus, Murphy'd been married twice, and Agent Rick seemed sort of traditional. She might have some more suggestions. “Harry? What's this?”

“I'm wooing Marcone. This is the plan.” 

“'Wooing'?” She set the list down and leaned forward, frowning. “You get that the wooing usually happens before you start sleeping with the guy, right? I mean, in the regular world. Also, it's been replaced with dating.”

“Right, right. But we're already having regular monkey sex. And it's really good. I mean really good. You should see the things Marcone can do with his-”

“AHHHH!” Murphy slapped her hands over my mouth, the lunge to reach me over the desk leaving her lying on the desk with her legs dangling over the edge. “No! Sex talk is banned, remember? I in no way ever want to know anything about you and Marcone in bed. As far as I'm concerned, Maggie is the second virgin birth on the planet. Got it?”

“Mrmph.”

She let go and moved back to her chair warily. 

“I should point out I haven't been a virgin since I was fifteen.” Murphy twitched. I held up my hands in surrender, laughing. “Sorry. I'm wooing Marcone so that he'll get it through his thick skull that I'm serious the next time I ask him to marry me.”

Murphy dropped her coffee cup down on the desk and stared at me, her eyes exaggeratedly wide in mock horror.

“Seriously? You and Marcone? In a church? Is that a good idea?” Her eyes narrowed. “Harry, is this some sort of guilt trip because of what happened to Michael? You get married to make him happy?”

“What? No. Michael's good with the way Marcone and I are. And who said anything about a church? Sheesh. If you're not going to be helpful, then just-” I ducked the wadded up paper Murphy chucked at my head. 

“You've lost your mind.”

“Several years ago. I know people who swear I lost it a decade or two back, but I think I remember having it during the whole Millenium hoopla, so it hasn't been that long. Unless I hallucinated that. That's possible too.”

“It's like working with a child. Christ. Flowers? You're going to send John Marcone flowers?” Murphy waved the list in front of my face.

“Everybody loves flowers.”

“Well, yeah. But. Marcone? He doesn't strike me as a flowers kind of guy. Maybe you could buy him a new set of knives, or a gun.”

“Hey, Marcone has a taste for nice things. It's not all blood and death. Flowers. That's just for starters. Did you read the rest of the list? It's a progressive plan.” I took the paper from her and set it down on the desk, tapping my finger beside my plan. “I've spent a lot of time on this. Here, just let me explain.”

In the end, Murphy saw the simple brilliance of my plan. Or she decided that there was no use in arguing with me and surrendered to the inevitable. It sort of worked out the same for me either way, so I wasn't being too picky about which avenue she took.

The flowers were the first step, the opening salvo. Of course, it being the middle of February, there weren't a whole lot of flowers to choose from. Normally I'd have just taken some from Mrs. Spunkelkrief's garden; her flower garden was the envy of the other ninety year old ladies in the neighborhood and competition was fierce. I'd earned my rights to the flowers after running off our neighbor from two houses down who'd been trying to introduce aphids to the garden a couple of years back. Little old people who garden are damn serious about their work and don't let anyone tell you any different. I'd been afraid I was going to have to get the dentures surgically removed from where the saboteur bit me.

With my go-to garden denied to me I had to use the florists. I came away with one tasteful arrangement of red and white roses mixed together with some ambrosia and a few sprigs of viscaria. The florist behind the counter had given me weird looks the whole time I was ordering and kept asking me if I was sure. I was. Not traditional, really, but it said what I wanted to say. I also left with a small, flowering cactus. 

Flowers were nice and all, but they died. And once they were dried out you could use them for a ton of spells, so I was going to be recycling these things anyway which might take a little bit away from the whole gift thing. The cactus though was pretty and it would live for a long time, assuming that someone remembered to take care of it. Which would happen, as long as that someone was not me.

Marcone was due at Executive Priority that afternoon to go over the books with the new madam. He'd done the smart thing and promoted from within, giving Tracey the job of overseeing the operation. I liked her, personally. She was one of the women that I'd sort of made friends with back when Marcone and I started seeing each other and she had a good head on some very well shaped shoulders. Tracey was also fiercely protective of the other girls- sorry. People. Marcone had hired on some male trainers in the last month to cater to a couple clients who weren't into women. Tracey was very protective of everyone who worked at EP and definitely wouldn't put up with any shit. I thought they were in good hands.

I dropped the flowers, the cactus and a little card on Marcone's desk and headed down one floor to Tracey's new office. She was behind the desk, her fingers flying over the keys on her laptop as she worked on something. I knocked on the door and waved through the glass. 

There was something strained about the smile that I received in return. Tracey gestured for me to wait, so I did as she powered down and moved the laptop to the top of a file cabinet in the far back corner of the room. 

“Ms. Dresden.” Tracey stood in front of her desk, her spine perfectly straight. She looked like a kid waiting to be inspected before class pictures day or something. I dropped into a visitors chair and put my boots up on the edge of the desk. Tracey turned to face me, leaning one hip against the desk as if she needed it for support.

“Tracey. Is something wrong?” 

“I- I just- you're my boss now! I don't know what to do around you.” She laughed and hopped up onto the desk to sit. “This is silly, isn't it? Me being nervous?”

“A little.” I patted her knee. “I'm not your boss, Marcone is. I just happen to be, you know, with him. No different from before, and it was never a big deal then, was it? I get it though. New job, more responsibilities. The relationship's a little different. So it's not entirely silly for you to be nervous, but there's nothing to worry about. And I'm definitely not here on business. It's a personal thing.”

“Oh! Oh, sure. What can I help you with?”

“I need a little advice and a little information. Nothing dangerous or freaky. I'm trying to surprise John with something.”

Tracey smiled, a knowing light coming into her eyes. “Really?” She clapped her hands together and her smile reminded me a little too much of Lea in that moment. “It's about time.”

I sighed and rolled my eyes. “He hasn't said yes yet.”

“Well, you just tell me what I can do and we'll fix that.”


	19. Chapter 19

Marcone brought the flowers back that evening and left them outside the door to my lab. If I hadn't been expecting it I might have been insulted. I hung them up in the closet to dry and went about my business. 

There was a bit of time to kill before my end game. That was the problem with plans for the most part I found. If they didn't lean heavily on the 'kill it with fire' factor, they took a really long time to get into place. In this case I thought it was going to be worth the wait, but it left me with time on my hands since once I got the balls rolling there wasn't a whole lot that I needed to do on that front. What was left for me had to wait until closer to the actual event.

I had about two weeks to wait, and I kind of wanted to keep Marcone from getting suspicious that I was planning something. So I kept up the distraction portion of the plan by dropping little cute things here and there. Sort of traditional wooing shit. Not that I expected it to work, except in the 'confuse and distract' sense.

Food was my next offensive. I didn't go insane with it and start buying him caviar or anything. This entire thing was all about the little details. Marcone and I, for all that he put on airs, shared taste in candy. The mixed basket of Kit-Kat's and Reeses was almost as much for me as it was for him, though I was nice and let him have first pick. He took most of the Kit-Kat's, the jerk. Bagels came next. I even got him the weird flavors that he preferred. I'd never admit it to him, but the Pina Colada bagel was actually pretty tasty, never mind the French Toast bagel. That last one was sort of a given, really. French Toast plus bagel. How could that go wrong? Spinach bagels though? Blech. Who voluntarily ate spinach flavored anything?

I even cooked dinner one night.

Well.

I attempted to cook dinner on my own. Then I regained my sanity and called Charity. She talked me through it, but the chicken burned anyway. I'm was pretty sure it wasn't my fault, but I couldn't figure out how to blame it on anyone else. So I ordered out and we ate Chinese food off of Marcone's really nice china. It was the thought that counted, right? Right.

The biggest part of the 'distract Marcone from the real plan' part of the plan was getting him to help with Molly's training. Her shields had gotten to the point where she could stop the snowballs with no problem at all. Which meant that we had to step it up. Shielding from fluffy things like snowballs was one thing, but a shield that would stop them wouldn't stop something more solid. There was nothing for it but to start hitting her with things that could really do some damage.

I'd talked to Charity and Michael about it before hand. Explained that there really wasn't any other way to train Molly to shield strongly enough to save her life. They trusted me not to hurt Molly and that scared the shit out of me to be honest. I spent a couple of nights sitting up with Maggie, avoiding my dreams of chucking fastballs at a ten year old version of Molly.

The dreams had the unexpected bonus of convincing Marcone that I really did need his help.

“Why's Mr. Marcone going to be throwing the snowballs at me?”

“Because I'm tired and he's got a better arm on him than I do.” I packed more snow around the core of the snowball and handed it to Marcone. He bounced it a few times in his palm while I got my own missiles lined up. “Ready?”

“Whenever you are Harry.”

“Molly?”

Molly nodded and held out her left hand. Her shield sprang into life, faster than it had been even the week before. I picked up one of my regular snowballs and lobbed it at Molly. It shattered on her shield in a fluffy explosion. She grinned and gave me a little wave with her right hand. 

“Don't get cocky Molly.” I nodded to Marcone and then started chucking the snowballs at my feet at Molly as fast as I could with a rapid fire mutter of “Forzare.” Molly yelped as they sped toward her but her shield stopped them all cold. The resulting veil of snow blinded her.

Marcone waited until the flurry had died down to throw his snowball. Molly saw him taking aim and a quick little smirk flashed over her face. 

It lasted right up until the loosely packed snow of Marcone's snowball smashed into her shield and the small ball of ice inside of it kept on going. She felt it go through her shield a second or two before it slammed into her hip.

“OW!” Molly's shield dropped as she slapped her hand at the spot on her hip that had been hit. I whipped another snowball at her as she turned. It smashed into her side, all fluff. “Harry!”

“Next stage of training, Molly. Better Shielding 101.” I waved my hands at the remaining piles of snowballs in front of Marcone and I. “Most of these are just snow. Maybe a quarter of them have an ice ball at the center. The idea is to make a shield that can stop both. You ready?”

She rubbed at her hip for another second and shot me a glare. I could practically feel Marcone's amusement in the air.

“That was low. You should have warned me.” I waited for Molly to storm off, to accuse me of being cruel, or an ass. She just huffed and rolled her eyes at me.

I dug the helmet and mask out from under the blanket I'd thrown over them and tossed them to Molly. She caught them and put them on without comment.

“You think someone's going to announce what they're throwing at you in a real fight? No. Quit pouting and get with it.”

“I'm not pouting. That hurt!” She threw up her hands. “Fine, fine.” Molly set herself and brought the shield up again. It took longer this time and the shield was heavier in the air, refracting the sunlight. It was a clumsy shield, too much like a glass wall without enough give to it to absorb the force without breaking. It would shatter after the first three or four heavy shots.

She'd learn.

~

Things were going well, right up until two days before D-day. Molly's shields were improving and I had everything I needed for the big event except for one or two things that had to be gathered the day of.

The only fly in my ointment was Maggie. She had decided that sleep was something other people did and was waking up every hour or so. It was making for short tempers and that was not a good thing in a house full of mob guys and a battle wizard. Something had to be done, I just couldn't figure out what. Even Hendricks was at a loss. I'd finally caved and decided to ask him to call his sisters to see if they had any ideas because my next best idea was to get a little whiskey and mix it with her evening bottle. And that struck me as kind of a bad idea.

I had just crawled back into bed after the tenth screaming fit Maggie had thrown that night and was starting to drift off when some asshole knocked on the door. It was four thirty in the morning. I was going to kill whoever was on the other side of the door and then drop back into bed with a clean conscience. 

Marcone, possibly sensing my murderous intentions, rolled out of bed before I could and answered the door. I got a glimpse of Dave in the sliver of open doorway and then Marcone was blocking my view. I closed my eyes and tried to get back to sleep. If it was important, Marcone would wake me up.

“Harry.” Lo and freaking behold.

“If I set it on fire, can I go back to sleep?”

“It's Molly. She's downstairs.”

I had shoved myself up and was yanking on a robe before Marcone finished saying Molly's name and was pushing past Dave by the time Marcone hit 'stairs'. My head ached and I was in that space where everything seemed fuzzy and a little out of touch. Too little sleep with a spike of adrenaline tossed into it for shits and grins.

If Molly was here, something was wrong. I couldn't figure out why she hadn't called, though. Had something attacked and she had to run away? Mouse whined from his spot in front of Maggie's door and I heard her start to cry again as I ran down the stairs. I knew John would grab her, so I kept going. One crisis at a time.

I skidded around the corner at the bottom of the stairs and almost ran into Gard. She caught me around the shoulders and stepped back as soon as I had my balance back. We hadn't managed to get back to where we'd been before, trusting and laughing with one another. There was an awkward thing between us that I didn't know how to get around. I wasn't all that sure I wanted to.

“Ms. Carpenter is in the kitchen. She's unharmed.” Gard moved out of my way. “There does not appear to be any emergency.”

“Then why- Never mind. I'll ask her myself.” I walked past her and tried to get my heart rate down to something where I didn't feel like it was going to explode out of my chest. A couple of the lights that I walked by buzzed and flickered even though they were already off. I was too on edge. Not enough sleep, not enough control. I slowed down and took my time. Emergency or not, Molly wouldn't just show up in the middle of the night without there being something up. I needed to be calm.

Molly was sitting at the kitchen table, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee. She was sniffling and when she looked up her eyes were red, her face blotchy. And there was a suitcase at her feet. Fuck.

“Molls? What's going on?”

“Harry. I- um. I screwed up.” Her hands shook around the mug as my heart dropped into my stomach. Saying that Molly screwing up could be disastrous was an incredible understatement. I pulled out the chair beside Molly and sat down, close enough to touch if she wanted to but without pushing.

“What happened?”

“I...Mom caught me coming in from the addition. I'd gone out there so I could talk to. Someone. On the phone, you know? Without disturbing anyone. Dad's coming home next week and Mom's been running around like a nut bar to get everything ready. She needs sleep. So, like I said. The addition. When she caught me coming in she kind of wigged out.

“Accused me of sneaking out again, of going back to the drugs. I'm not!” She smacked the table. “I tried to tell her, and then we were yelling and- and- she wouldn't listen and then we...I said some really awful things, Harry.” Molly's head dropped forward, her hair brushing the table. “I had to leave. I'm sorry.” She rolled one shoulder upward, probably indicating the screaming we could still hear from upstairs. Maggie was not going back down.

Hells fucking bells. I rubbed my hands over my face and tried to think of something to say that wasn't going to come out in a scream of my own. I was tired, and I did not know how to fix any of this. I knew fuck all about fixing family things, especially mother-daughter things. It took me a couple minutes to get my brain into working order. The silence was broken only by Molly's occasional sniffle and the quiet sounds of her sipping at her coffee.

“Let's break this down. You and Charity had a fight and you took off. Did you tell her where you were going?”

“No. I threw some stuff in my bag and walked down to the gas station to call a cab.”

“Alright. That was not smart, but alright. I'm going to call Charity and let her know that you're here and not wandering the streets. You're going to go get some sleep and then tomorrow morning I am going to drive you back home and we'll figure out what to do then.”

“But I- the things I said Harry.”

“You guys have been running on hope and adrenaline fueled freaking cheer for months. Stress can make us do some incredibly shitty things. Your dad's coming home and that's just ramping everything up. Lack of sleep on top of that doesn't help. Trust me, I know of what I speak there.”

“I-”

“Sleep. That's an order. Go.” I took the mug out from between Molly's limp hands and pulled it over in front of me. She used too much sugar for my tastes, but I was willing to suffer for the caffeine. Molly stared at me for a long second and then got up, dragging her suitcase behind her.

The phone only rang once before Charity picked up at the other end.

“Molly?”

“It's Harry. Molly's here and she's fine.”

“Oh thank God.” I could imagine her slumping against the counter in her kitchen. “I'll come pick her up and-”

“I think it might be better if she sleeps here tonight. Everybody's tired and she's already here, so...”

“I don't-” She sighed. “You might be right. You're certain it's not a problem?”

“Not at all. I'll bring her back in the morning.” I glanced at the clock. It was five. “Maybe closer to lunch time.”

That gave me time to get some sleep and to call Murph and ask for advice.

~

“If you weren't sneaking around, then why wouldn't you tell me who you were talking to?”

“You didn't give me a chance to.” Molly drummed her fingers on the table top and refused to look up at Charity. 

“Well, I'm giving you the chance now. Who were you talking to in the middle of the night?”

A blush crept up over Molly's cheeks and she shot a look at me from under her bangs. “Just a friend from the Council. It's nothing bad.”

Hells bells. Teenagers. I thought over what I knew. Molly as an apprentice, never mind a confessed warlock, didn't interact with a whole lot of other wizards. The old school wizards found apprentices beneath their notice.”

“Carlos?”

“Who's Carlos?” Charity's tone was sharp enough to make me wince and want to sit up straight. I had no idea how she did it. Amazing mom powers I had not inherited maybe.

“Oh God.” Molly dropped her head to the table with a heavy thunk. I laughed and Maggie, crawling around on the floor chasing little Harry stopped and giggled with me. 

“Who is Carlos?”

I waved my hand through the air.

“It's okay Charity, really. Carlos Ramirez is a Warden. I've worked with him before and he's a really good guy. Very nice. Polite.” I poked Molly in the shoulder. “Handsome.”

“Kill me.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“Nothing is going on!” Molly's voice was a little muffled against the table, but I could hear her frustration and embarrassment clearly enough. “We're just friends!”

“Friends who talk in secret in the middle of the night?”

“He'd just gotten back from an assignment and I was worried, okay? Being a Warden is dangerous and I just-” Her voice dropped, got softer. “I just wanted to be sure he wasn't hurt.”

I laughed and patted Molly on the shoulder. “It's not that big a deal, Molly.” I met Charity's eyes. “If it makes you feel better, I trust Carlos. He's not a creeper. The next time he's in town I'll bring him over for dinner.”

“Noooooooo....”

“It's only fair to poor Carlos, Molly. I think he needs to have fair warning of what he's getting into. Just in case you two do decide to start dating.” I leaned down to whisper in her ear, though I was sure Charity could hear me. “Your mom's kind of scary, you know? Carlos might decide to do something safer. Like try to date a maenead.”

Molly snorted and choked on a laugh.

“I hate you.” 

~

“Will you tell me what we're doing here now?” Marcone waited by the door as I muttered the candles around my apartment alight. I had gotten the fire going earlier when I'd stopped in to make the final preparations, so all I needed to do was stir the banked embers back into life and put some fresh wood on.

“I'd like your help with a spell.”

My back was to him but I could hear the sharp breath he drew in and held. When I turned around Marcone was standing stock still, staring at me. The naked longing on his face was shocking. I'd known that Marcone's interest in magic was intense. I hadn't realized that it was so much like naked lust. I smiled and tossed my jacket over the couch.

“You've got a little drool there.” I wiped at the corner of my own mouth in demonstration. “Is that a yes?”

Marcone cleared his throat and ripped off his winter coat, then slipped more carefully out of his suit jacket. “Yes.”

“You don't even want to know what kind of spell it is?” I pulled off my boots and my sweater.

“Are you going to sacrifice me to some eldritch god?” His holster came off, then the knives. 

“No. Not tonight anyway.”

“Then I don't care what kind of spell it is.” Marcone toed off his own boots and then hesitated. “What now?”

I crossed back over to him and pulled him into a hug, kissing him for a quick second. “I'll walk you through it.”

We stripped in the growing warmth of my living room and then I led him down to the lab. I lit the candles down there and gave Marcone a second to look around. I'd hauled Molly's desk and everything else I could out of the lab, shoved the long table with Little Chicago on it to one side, to make room for the circle I needed. The lab wasn't huge and I needed a circle large enough to hold the two of us stretched out on the floor.

A thin mattress lay in the center of the circle, surrounded by the five crystals that I'd given Tracey. The runes on them glowed with a steady red light, showing that they were fully charged. Everything was ready; the crystals in their holders, the focus items forming the points of the star inside the circle and the prize at the head of the mattress hidden under the silk cloth with its sigils and workings.

I led Marcone over into the middle of the circle. We knelt on the thin mattress there and I leaned over to touch my fingers to the chalk line of the circle. It closed around us, an electric tingle that slid over our skin and raised the hairs on the back of my neck. Marcone buried his face in my neck and moaned, throbbing between my thighs. I slid over him, drew the hard length of him through the folds of my sex as I scooted backwards in his lap.

“Christ.” Marcone swallowed hard and grabbed at my waist. His other hand slid up the back of my neck, fingers carding through the short hair at the back of my head. “We're really going to-”

“Mmmhmmm.” I tugged at his bottom lip with my teeth and nudged his hip with mine. “Switch.”

It took a second for Marcone to work it out. The combination of lust and magic had short circuited something. Eventually we managed to get into the right positions, me on my back on the mattress with Marcone kneeling between my legs. I kept my eyes on his face as I reached down and slid my fingers into myself. John made a strangled sound when I rubbed the tip of my tongue over the dent in my upper lip.

He fell on me, his fingers hard on my wrist as he pulled my hand away from myself. John pinned my hand down by my hip and fastened his mouth onto my stomach. He licked at my belly button, nipped at the soft skin there with his teeth before blazing a trail down to my mound. I sighed and moaned, let myself go with the tight tingle of magic that ran up and down my skin; let that feed into and mix with the expanding rush of arousal that John pulled out of me.

John was good with his mouth, the bastard. His fingers held me open to make it easier for his tongue to tease along the edges of my sex before darting in. He took his time, like he was trying to scoop me up and drink me down. John would spend time there, buried deep as he could go inside of me, his skin smooth against my inner thighs with just the faintest hint of roughness from his stubble. Then he would withdraw, his tongue and teeth finding my clit a bare second before he sucked it between his lips, scraped his teeth over it so carefully. I yanked at his hair with my free hand, pulled him in harder. John laughed, the vibrations making me shake and curse at him.

I waited until the last minute, letting the pleasure and the magic spool together inside of me until I felt like I was ready to explode in every way that counted. When I was sure that it was enough, when the fire inside of me filled every inch of my body I clawed at the back of John's neck and pulled, gasping out his name. He let me pull him away, followed the guiding pressure of my hand as I urged him up my body.

John's hair was on end, waving in an unfelt breeze. There were tiny sparks playing over his skin, static electricity of the magical variety. I pulled him up until I could kiss him, his mouth hot and slick with my own excitement; his cock was pressed between us. I could feel the sticky pool of precome forming on my stomach and it made my body clench in want.

“Inside me.” I breathed it into his mouth, tears leaking out of the corners of my eyes as the magic responded to my arousal and pulsed with it. I hadn't realized it would walk the edge between pain and pleasure so closely. It was almost overwhelming.

John moved quickly, sliding back down my body and lifting my legs. I clawed at the cement floor to the sides of the mattress and screamed, needing some sort of release to keep the magic under control as John drove forward, filling me. It was more than anything I'd ever felt before, the magic I held inside of me reaching out and wrapping around John, setting us both on fire.

The magic wanted to flow out of me, out of the both of us and fill the circle. I held it back by the barest of threads, waiting. My vision went red as John moved, blinded by the swirling, boiling light that crackled over the walls of the lab. When it was ready, when the pressure of the magic outside of my body matched the pressure inside I threw my head back and let it go. 

It was John's turn to scream as the magic rushed through him and around him. I dug my nails into his back and rode it out, clenched around him with my teeth buried in my bottom lip. Part of my mind, the part that had been trained to keep track of the magic no matter what was being done to my body, followed the tornado-like whirl of the magic around us as it spiraled tighter and tighter. It narrowed down into a thin funnel centered on the object hidden under the enchanted cloth and then was gone, sucked into the thing in the blink of an eye.

John was collapsed on top of me, wonderfully heavy. We lay there for a few minutes until the involuntary muscle twitches stopped.

“Was that what was supposed to happen?” John's lips moved against my breast, his breath a warm tickle that made me pulse in slow half interested arousal.

“I think so. At least, that's the way the notes described it. More or less.”

“'More or-'” John pushed himself up onto his elbows and looked down at me. “You've never done this before.”

“Well, no. It's sort of an intimate spell.” I flexed around him, quiet and growing soft inside of me. His face was a pool of emotion. Exasperation, retroactive concern and pleasure. Possessive, self-indulgent pleasure. This was something that I hadn't ever shared with anyone else.

“What did we do?”

“I'll show you.” I patted his shoulder and he moved off of me. John was moving slowly and I imagined that he was aching just as nicely as I was. I rolled onto my hands and knees and picked up the object and the cloth both, keeping it hidden.

John and I got to our feet and I scuffed my foot over the circle, breaking it. The lab seemed darker without the lights from the crystals so I lit a few more candles as I walked over to Little Chicago where it lay covered by its sheet.

“We did this.” I pulled the cloth off of my hand and held it out to John. He leaned over and peered at the shining gold miniature building in my palm.

“What...is that the house?” John reached out for it and I let him take it. The miniature was heavy, and as perfectly detailed as all the others I had had made for Little Chicago.

“Yeah. I have a guy who makes miniatures out of lead. He can do anything. I took a chip off the outside of the house and had him cast this one.”

“This isn't made of lead, Harry. It's gold.”

“Well, yeah. We turned it into gold.”

Ebenezar hadn't wanted me to be a combat wizard. When I'd gone to live with him he'd done his best to find some other branch of wizardry to distract me. It hadn't worked. My path had been well set by the time we'd met one another and I didn't show a lot of talent for things like healing. What I had shown some talent for was alchemy. I hadn't ever put my knowledge of alchemy to any real use since it was heavy on the ritual aspects of magic and not of a whole lot of use for keeping angry demons from eating my face, but I hadn't ever forgotten any of it.

“Lead. Into gold.” John shifted his gaze from the miniature back to my face. “You can turn lead into gold and you've been living in a basement.”

“It's not that easy. The ritual's really involved and it kind of requires an orgy.” My face heated up. The woodcuts in the real alchemical texts were graphic and highly educational. 

John turned to look around the room and then back to me. “I was unaware that the two of us constituted an orgy.”

“'Course not. That's what the crystals are for.” I nudged the nearest one with my toes. “Stored sexual energy from EP. It's a little harder to work with than fresh energy, according to the text, but it can be done.” I cleared my throat. “That's not the- here.” I pulled the sheet off of Little Chicago.

John stared down at it, his eyebrows crawling into his hairline.

“This is Little Chicago.” I launched into my explanation for what the model was and what I could do with it without looking at John. I was both proud and embarrassed of Little Chicago. John stayed silent the entire time. When I was done I plucked the model of John's house out of his hand. “I'm going to expand it to include the house.”

“This is incredible.” John touched the tops of the buildings carefully, reverently. “Thank you for trusting me with this.”

“I do trust you. And I-” I fought down the flutter of nervousness in my stomach. If he said no now I didn't know what I was going to do. I was out of ideas. “I trust you and I want to marry you.” I held the model of our house out again. It reflected the candle light prettily. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes.”


	20. Chapter 20

The theoretical 'peace' of knowing what the hell we were going to be doing lasted for about two hours. 

Marcone had never mastered the art of cooking on my stove without turning everything to charcoal so I was making us a late night snack of eggs and bacon. No, the housekeeping fairies didn't keep my place stocked up on perishable goods. When I'd come over the day before to survey my cupboards the only thing in them had been several cases of Coke and frozen pizza, which the fae could be counted on to maintain that with religious fervor, in the ice box. I'd done a little shopping, brought in food with actual nutritional value. Marcone was big on that. I'd have been happy with the pizza and the Coke.

“We should call Father Forthill first thing Monday morning.” 

“Why?” I flipped the last egg and looked over at Marcone as it sizzled. He was sprawled out on my couch, hands resting loosely on his stomach just above the waistband of the 'Kneel Before Zod' boxers I'd gotten him for Christmas. Smugness thy name is John Marcone. He was lucky I was high on sex or I might be irritated.

“To find out when the church is available. I know Father Forthill is a friend but we can't expect him to bump other couples out of the way for us.” Amusement crept into his voice. “I could always find a priest who would, but I doubt we'd like him much.”

I carried the food out into the main room and set it down on the coffee table. With Mouse back at the house with Maggie the food would be safe there for a little while.

“We're not getting married in a church.” 

John opened his eyes to stare up at me. I crossed my arms and stared right back. I knew John well enough to see that he was surprised.

“I wasn't aware that you had a religious preference, Harry. I assumed that we would-”

“I don't have a religious 'preference'. That's partially the point. Even assuming that Father Forthill would marry us, which he would because he's a good guy. What with you being a- well, you and me being a wizard with no theological beliefs of any stripe, I mean. Not your typical happy Christian couple.”

“There are dispensations for mixed faith couples.”

“I know that. Still not the point. For most people, if they're comfortable with that, that's fine. But I'm a wizard. I can't make vows that I intend to break. There's a psychic and magical backlash to doing that. For people- for regular, non-magically talented people it amounts to...” I waved my hand in the air. “Nothing for the most part. Sometimes bad things happen to them but that's just life. I go into something falsely swearing a vow and the backlash will kick me in the ass in the long run.

“Apart from all of that,” I kept going before he could interrupt. “I have absolutely no desire or intention to make vows before or to a deity that I don't worship.”

“The vows can be written so that there's nothing objectionable in them. I didn't expect to use the older form of the ceremony in any case.”

“That still leaves the issue of, 'not Christian, not participating in a ceremony I don't believe in'. So just lose any fantasy of me walking down the aisle in a poofy white wedding gown. It ain't happening.” Disappointment flicked across his features as he sat up. A hard edge of stubbornness entered his eyes. “Oh. This is going to be a thing, isn't it?”

“If you cannot in good conscience participate in a ceremony that you don't believe in, neither can I. That leaves us at a bit of an impasse, doesn't it?”

“I'm not going to back off of this.”

“Nor am I.”

“You only talk like that when you're being an asshole and don't want anyone to notice.”

“Your language devolves in direct proportion to mine growing more polished. Have you noticed that?”

“Something about hearing so much polished shit coming out of you rubs me the wrong way I guess.”

Marcone slid over and I joined him on the couch. The plate was still warm but not too hot through my shorts as I set it on my thighs.

“We can go through with the legal portions of the marriage without trouble, can't we?”

“Sure.”

“Then we'll start there and work on a compromise for the rest of it.”

“Yeah. Because we're both so good at that.” I snorted and took a bite of the eggs. Marcone fished out a piece of bacon and started crunching away.

“I have a small request.”

“Not wearing the poofy dress, no matter what.” Elaine and I had fantasized about getting married when we were little. I think most girls do at some point if for no other reason than the world tells us we should. I'd long grown out of the princess phase of my life.

“Nothing to do with the wedding. Make up with Ms. Gard.”

I rolled my eyes and poked him with the fork.

“I'm still working just fine with her. And you can't force this sort of thing. Friendship's organic.”

“You forgave me.”

“I'm having sex with you. And I like you better. Most of the time.” Not right now, my tone implied.

“She did what she thought was best. In fact, she did nothing that you yourself have not done in the past. Keep information from someone for their own good. We've forgiven you.” I couldn't really argue with that, so I ignored it. That's the best way to deal with things that are uncomfortable yet still true.

“It's not like I'm refusing to speak to her or anything. Nothing has changed in an operational sense. If we haven't been working together it's just because there hasn't been any crisis since the Denarians left town.”

“Are you really that-” He broke off and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “Yes. Of course you are. 

“The men are aware that there has been a falling out between the two of you. With tension at the management levels it filters down to the subordinates. They don't know how to treat Ms. Gard because they're uncertain as to whether or not she is still in favor. It needs to be made clear. Either we break off our relationship with her and request a new consultant or we make it clear to everyone that Ms. Gard has our full confidence again.”

“And part of that is she and I being friends?”

“Yes.”

“That's stupid. Really, really stupid. And annoying.” I handed Marcone the plate and kicked my feet up onto the table. “She's worked with them a lot longer than I have. They should be on her side.”

“She's an employee. Whereas you, Harry, are the fiancee,” I could hear the pleasure being able to use that word brought him, “of their leader. The mother of my child. You have saved their lives and threatened them in nearly equal measure. You are one of them in a way that Ms. Gard will never be. Harry, you're as much a part of Chicago as I am to them. You confuse the men. You do not remain neatly in any of the roles they are comfortable with women being in, traditionally.”

“You don't tend to hire old school mafiosi.”

“You'd be surprised how long some attitudes remain prevalent. You can't be unaware of the fact that they fear and respect you.”

“I know some of them think of me as a sort of mascot. I blame George.” I played with the hem of my shirt for a second. “Did you know he's dating Murphy?”

“Yes. Don't change the subject.” He handed the plate back to me. I dragged the end of a slice of bacon through the yolk, ignoring the look Marcone was giving me. “It's your choice Harry. Either we send Ms. Gard back and ask for another consultant or you find some way to make up with her.”

“Fine. Fine.” I'd thought about it before, getting rid of Sigrun and having someone else come in. I didn't want that, not even as pissed off as I'd been. I liked her, when she wasn't going behind my back and lying to my face. And I was used to her. People tell me I don't deal well with change, and they might be right. But it's just frustrating having to break new people in to my habits. Easier to keep the ones I've got. I'd figure something out.

~

No one ever believes me at first when I tell them that there are perks to my job. They look at my apartment and the Beetle and they scoff. It's true that private wizarding doesn't pay very well; at least not the way I do it. It isn't just about getting paid though. There're other benefits to doing what I do. There's the pure high of saving people from monsters, of course. Or saving the world. I've done that a couple of times. Not that anyone wants to give me credit for most of those saves.

Then there are the ones that are just nice. My discount at Shoegasm, for example. Broker a peace treaty between the owners of a high end shoe store and the cobbs that have taken to literally shrinking their stock and you have earned a lifetime discount. I'd earned gratitude based deals like that all over the city. 

“We have the entire facility to ourselves?” Gard eyed the light weight armor one last time before shrugging and strapping it on.

“Yeah. We've got until four, so that gives us what? About three hours. Should be enough time for me to kick your ass and set the universe to rights once more.” I double checked my own gear and then tugged on my helmet.

“How did you manage that?” Gard didn't rise to my jibe and it just reminded me that Marcone had been right. Once I'd started paying attention I'd noticed all the little ways that the guys had been cutting Gard out. Nothing that they could get called on as insubordination but lots of little things that added up. They were trying to run her out because they thought she was on the outs with me. Which, okay. But I didn't want her gone.

“Believe it or not, mob ghosts. Sherrie and Alina were expanding the space a few years back and they disturbed some old dumping ground. So these ghosts get up and they start recreating their battles with the guns and using the patrons as target practice. I cleaned them out and the girls said I could come by and play anytime I wanted.”

Gard looked at me, then down at her own helmet. “Do we really need to wear these things?”

“At least until we get out of sight of Liz over there. The law says we have to wear protective gear and I don't want to get anyone into trouble.”

“Ridiculous.”

“Just until we get out on the grounds. Then you can take off your helmet and risk losing an eye if you want.” Not that I'd be aiming for her head, but accidents happen. That's what the helmets were for.

We went by Liz and got checked out. Last minute safety instructions which I knew we were both hearing but not really listening to. Then we were out in the woods. 

We separated, each moving through the forest as quickly as we knew how. I figured Sigrun thought she'd have the advantage here but I'd spent three years living with Ebenezar. I doubted I was on Sigrun's level; they probably had wilderness survival weekends over at Monoc where the employees were dumped naked in the middle of the woods with a pen and instructions to be at their desk on Monday with a new set of clothes made entirely from things they'd killed and the yearly budget for their department worked up. Still, I wasn't a city dweller suddenly tossed into a completely unfamiliar environment.

The supposed goal of the game was a flag at the far end of the course. And we might get around to fighting over the flag at some point. For now we were hunting each other.

I followed the marked trail for maybe five minutes then slipped off into the underbrush at a spot where it had already been broken. If I was careful there wouldn't be any sign that I'd taken this path. I found a small rise and slipped around it. Once I was reasonably sure that Gard wasn't going to pop up and starting shooting me in the next couple of minutes I stripped out of my own armor. It was clunky and restrictive. I patted the top of the helmet as I set it down on top of the rest of the equipment.

Right. I picked up my paint ball gun and double checked the reservoir, a grin stretching my face. This was going to be fun.

~

“I'm not drunk.” I leaned forward over the bar and stared hard at Mac. Well. Mac's nose anyway. One of them. He'd grown an extra somewhere along the way for some reason. “I don't get drunk because I don't like it. So I'm not drunk.” Somewhere behind me Gard was leading the chess playing men in a rousing song. I didn't understand a word of it, but that made sense since it was in Monocian. Which might, upon reflection, be Swedish. Or probably Norse. 

Mac shoved a plate of fries under my nose and grunted at it. “Eat.”

He walked out from behind the bar to deliver a plate of fries to Gard and her backup singers. I tried to watch him go, such an occasion being incredible but someone had screwed with physics and my bar stool was solid and wobbly all at the same time. So I grabbed at the mostly solid bar and dumped some ketchup and mayo on my fries. Maybe they'd weigh me down and make everything stop feeling quite so jittery and floaty.

“Dresden.” A hand the same size as my plate appeared on the bar. I stared at it and then poked it with the fry I had been about to eat. The hand made a disgusted sound and a second hand appeared with a napkin. They took my fry away from me, which wasn't nice at all. Fingers snapped in my ear. “Hey. You awake in there or what?”

“Cujo!” I jumped off of my stool and hugged the big red lug. He grunted and caught me before I slid all the way to the floor. “Stupid physics. Did you notice something wrong with gravity on the way in?”

“I don't think it's the gravity, Dresden.”

“Hey Sigrun! Cujo's here!” I leaned over to catch her attention and Cujo had to catch me again. “See? Gravity is off line here!” Cujo sighed and picked me up as he slid off his own bar stool. Wow. That took talent.

“Not really. Just a lot of practice picking up drunk people. I was a bouncer for a couple of years in college.”

“Are you reading my mind? 'Cause that's against the Law. I'm pretty sure.”

Another sigh and then we were walking across the room to Gard. Her Gard-ettes were now face down on the table, snoring. Which wasn't very melodious. I walked slowly, trying to compensate for the tendency I'd developed to list to one side. So many weird things going on tonight. 

“No. Your internal monologue? Is external right now.”

“Is not.” I poked him in the side of the neck. It was like poking a stone, so I did it again. “That is so freaky. Maybe you're part troll. Only less stinky. And less with the eating people. You don't eat people, do you? For real?”

“Such a bonus this month.”

~

“Mead should be illegal.” I held the ice pack to my forehead and tried to drink my coffee without losing the careful placement of the ice or spilling hot coffee down the front of my shirt.

“Yes, of course. Did the mead come before or after you got that colorful bruise?”

“After.” I tapped my fingers on the icepack. “Gard got in a lucky shot by the second bunker.”

“Is that when Ms. Gard got her broken nose?”

“Uh...no. That was earlier. She snuck up on me and I reacted. And before you ask, the limp is from where we went sliding down a hill and she twisted her knee. Which is also when I dislocated the finger.” I waggled it awkwardly for a second, tapping the splint against my coffee mug.

“I see.” He spooned some more cereal toward Maggie. She grabbed at the spoon and he let her take it. We watched as she shoved the mush into her mouth, for the most part, and chewed noisily.

“We really need to teach her to chew with her mouth closed.”

“Priorities. I think we should concentrate on potty training and sleeping through the night first.” He caught the brightly colored plastic spoon as she tossed it back for a refill.

“Ore!”

“Maybe teach her not to throw things too. And a new word. All she says lately is 'more' and 'Mouse'.”

“Not true. She said 'Cujo' yesterday.” Marcone handed her back the reloaded spoon. “Maggie says plenty of things, when she wants to. She's barely a year old after all.”

I caught the spoon this time, dropping my ice pack. Maggie's aim was iffy, though still impressive for being an infant. When I tried to hand it back to her she slapped it to the floor, shouting for Mouse. He dutifully trotted over and cleaned up the mess while Maggie clapped and giggled.

“Harry, when you're feeling a little less like setting all the mead in the city-”

“World. All the mead. Everywhere.”

“All the mead everywhere on fire, we need to sit down and go over a few things. For the wedding.”

“There is nothing you can say to convince me to get married in a church.” We'd avoided talking about the whole wedding issue for the past couple of weeks. I was busy patching things up with Gard, which had gone spectacularly well if I said so myself, and I was pretty sure Marcone was busy plotting some kind of end run around my adamant rejection of a church wedding.

He held up his hands, waving me off. “I'm not talking about the ceremony. These are legal matters. Some things that the board is...insisting on.”

“Your board?” I laughed. “I keep forgetting you have legal businesses too. What do they-”

“Sir. Lady K.” George knocked lightly on the wall of the kitchen before coming into the room. He lifted the cordless phone in his hand and spoke into it, then frowned and held it away from his ear. “Ma'am. Sorry. It's Mr. McCoy.”

It was my turn to frown. Ebenezar had a phone in the barn on the farm, as far as he could get it from his own lab, but he didn't use it very often. I grabbed the phone out of George's hand and tried to keep myself calm. 

“Sir?”

“Hoss!” A long beat where I could hear him getting himself under control. The line snarled with static and for a few seconds I thought we were going to lose the connection. “Harriet. Would you like to tell me what in the hell you think you're doing?”


	21. Chapter 21

“Um. What? Nothing. I'm not doing anything. What're you-”

“What the hell is this- Harry, there's a wedding invitation sitting on my table. An invitation to your wedding. To that scumbag Marcone. So I repeat. What the hell do you think you're doing?”

I put my hand over the receiver and looked to Marcone. “Did you send out invitations?”

“To what?”

“Our wedding? You know, the one we haven't planned or told anyone about yet?”

“No.” Marcone scooped up Maggie and handed her over to George. I put the phone back to my ear.

“Sir, we didn't send out any invitations. Did you check it to make sure there's nothing hinky about it?”

“No. I just brought in a mysterious piece of mail that was tinged with magic into my goddamn house without checking it first.” Something crashed on the other end of the line and a sharp whine cut through the static. It died out after a few seconds but the connection was worse than ever. “Of course I checked it. So you're not getting married. Good.”

“Um. Well.” But Ebenezar was on a roll and he didn't hear me.

“Must'a been Joe. Damn fool thinks he's funny all of a sudden. Practical damned joker. Gonna-”

“Sir. Sir!” He'd moved on to what he was going to do to Listens-to-Wind. It involved a goat, from what I could make out. Eb's Scottish started showing when he got upset.

“Don't yell in my ear, Hoss! What?”

I cleared my throat and sank down in my chair even though he was several hundred miles away.

“I am getting married, actually. To Marcone.” The silence on the line wasn't dead, not with all that static but it was close. “Ebenezar? Sir? You still there?”

“I've died and gone to hell.” There was a heavy thump. I imagined Eb had either just slammed his fist down on the work table in the barn or he'd smacked his head into it.

“Sir, it's really not that big a deal. I was going to tell you once we sorted out the ceremony and everything.” Marcone reached for the phone and I pushed him away with my foot. Benefit of long legs: when I push someone away, they're way the hell out of arms reach.

“Hells bells Hoss. Some days you're thick. Does anyone else know about this engagement?” His voice on the last word was bitter.

“No. No one's supposed to know yet. And I'd appreciate it if you'd adjust your fucking attitude, sir. My life. I thought you'd gotten over this.”

“It's not a snit, Hoss. He's bad news. You're still living with him, aren't you? Like I said-” Static overwhelmed the line and I lost Eb for a second. “Hoss?”

“Still here, though I don't know why.” I drummed my fingers on the kitchen table and contemplated locking Eb and Marcone in a magic proof room without any weapons. The only problem with that was I'd have to tie them both down too or they'd figure out a way to kill one another with their bare hands. “Look. I'll look into the invitation thing. I don't know who sent it but I'll take care of it. And when you're feeling a little more calm you can give me a call and we can talk like reasonable adults.”

“Hoss, it ain't that simple. You need to find out if more of these things went out. If they went to the goddamn Council. Because if they did, you're in for a world of trouble.” Then he hung up on me.

I did not throw the phone across the room, because I am a reasonable adult. I did, however, smack it down onto the table harder than necessary.

“I swear I had nothing to do with any invitations.”

“Oh, I believe you. That leaves us with the problem of who did, and why Eb's having a minor freak out over it.”

“Apart from the part where he believes that I'm the root of all evil in your life and would love to have an excuse to kill me?”

“Yes. Apart from that. He said something about hoping that the Council didn't find out. The Council doesn't care about your criminal masterminding as long as you don't start whipping out black magic. So it's something else.”

“Mmm. Yes.” Marcone got a thoughtful look on his face.

“So who'd you tell we're engaged?”

“No one.” He paused and then nodded his head in a conciliatory gesture. “James. And my board of directors. As I said there are a few minor legal matters that need to be dealt with.”

“None of them would send out magic wedding invitations though I'm guessing. And I haven't told anyone.”

“No one?”

“Nobody. I mean, Murph knew I was working on the Plan but I haven't told her that it was successful yet. Thomas has been out of town at that stylist's convention.” I shrugged. “Ooh. George. George knows, because George knows all. Still can't see him sending out a magic wedding invitation.” And because sometimes my mind works better when I'm not trying to think at a problem directly I thought about something else. The invitation was strange and annoying in that it had gotten Eb so upset, but it didn't seem to be life threatening.

“So what sort of legal matters did we need to talk about?”

“Some paperwork that needs to be signed. Agreements as to the disposition of property in the event of a divorce. Minor matters, as I said.”

“'Agreements as to the disposition of property in the event of a divorce'? I always know when you're trying to get something by me, John. You devolve into lawyer-ese. It's a pre-nup, isn't it?”

Marcone spread his hands, smiling, and gave me a quick nod. “Indeed. They're afraid that you're a gold digger who got herself pregnant to dig her claws into my fortune and my holdings. They're afraid our marriage will be a sham that will end as soon as you can be certain of taking at least half of everything. So yes. They're insisting on a pre-nuptial. To ease their minds.”

We looked at one another for a second and then laughed. As I did I leaned back in my chair, balancing on the back two legs. It was kind of hysterical, really. Me marrying Marcone for his money. If only. My life would be a lot easier if that was all I wanted out of it. I could have had some of Marcone's money from the first day I met him.

I watched the morning sunlight glint off of the pots that hung around the island in the middle of the kitchen. A bright light zipped by, vanishing out through the window for a second before zipping back in. The little faerie was a bright, pulsing red. Maybe Elidee, though I had a hard time telling the tinier of the Guard apart. They were just too small for me to see clearly.

The faerie climbed into a partially open cupboard and came flying back out a minute later, a small bag dangling beneath her like the bucket off of a helicopter. I leaned back further to watch her fly out through the window again. She was probably taking more supplies outside for the little building project they had going on in the greenhouse. I'd only gotten half a look at it the other day but it looked like some sort of shrine or something. I wasn't going to ask unless it started to look like something worrying.

Like if they were starting to try tiny faerie sacrifices or something. As it was they were buzzing around out there like harmless, crazed bees. Busy busy.

“So much to do.”

“Oh. Oh shit.”

~

“Leanansidhe!” I was back on the little promontory, Mouse back on the shore. The call that I worked into Lea's name was stronger than the one I'd used before. A heavy banging at her mental front door, as it were but still obviously not a command. I didn't think I'd ever be strong enough to just yank something as powerful as Lea around on a leash. I hoped not anyway. People with that much power tended to be assholes or insane.

“Child, this had better be important. I have many things to do and mortal time moves forward whether I will it or no.”

I jumped and almost landed in the lake. Lea was behind me, tapping her foot impatiently on the grass. It was covered with a thin layer of frost for a good foot around her.

“Yeah. About those many things you've been doing. Did you send out wedding invitations?”

Lea sighed and rolled her eyes before turning away to look out over the lake.

“Certainly. I've sent out the invitations, I've begun arranging for the food and the entertainment. How do you feel about big band music? Maeve still has a dozen musicians in her stable and she's promised them to me at a very reasonable rate.” Lea waved a hand through the air. “Well, think about it. I'm positive they can be trained to play whatever music you prefer in any case. I've also been in negotiations with the officiant.

“Is there some sort of problem? Because I will deal with it. Quickly.” Lea smiled, showing off her beautiful, sharp teeth. If I ever got a chance to talk to my mother we were going to have so many, many words about what the hell she'd been thinking when she'd asked Lea to be my godmother.

“Yes. Yes, there's a problem. You can't- what the hell do you think you're doing? We haven't decided anything yet. You can't just go around and plan my wedding!”

“Harry, darling. I am fulfilling my responsibilities as your godmother.” Lea started to walk away from me, shaking her head. “I'll come see you once I've secured the proper officiant. Consider what you wish to wear, and please do try and keep it in Winter colors. I won't have you plighting your troth in something Summery. Twould be too large an insult to be borne.”

“Hey! We're not done here! Who'd you invite? And when did you tell them the wedding was?”

She told me and the bottom dropped out of my stomach.

“That's in two months, Lea. That's insane.” I followed after her, coming to the edge of dry land. Lea kept on walking until she was a few feet away, standing on top of the waves. She liked that, freaking me out by doing things she shouldn't have been able to do. Damn sidhe. “Undo it. Send out another letter and tell them it was a joke. Or a mistake. Whatever. Undo it. We're getting married in our own time.”

“Don't be ridiculous. It's done. Wheels are in motion. I expect that your man will have a list of people he wishes to attend the ceremony. He can send it to my email address.” She flicked her hand through the air and a small piece of paper fluttered through the air. Literally, fluttered. The edges folded up and flapped a little in the air to guide it over to me.

I plucked it out of the air and glanced down at it. My faerie godmother had a gmail account. “That's just so wrong.” When I looked back up Lea was gone. “Perfect. Just fucking perfect.”

~

I slapped Lea's business card down on Marcone's desk and dropped into a chair. He looked at it, his eyebrows climbing up to his hairline.

“What's this for?”

“It's Lea's email address. So you can send her your contribution to the guest list. She's planning and running our wedding.”

“Ah.”

“Ah? That's all you've got to say to that? My crazy faerie godmother is sending out wedding invitations and doing who the hell knows what and all you've got is 'ah'?”

“I assume you tried to talk her out of it?”

“Sort of. I told her to stop, she laughed at me and ignored me. It was kind of like every other conversation I've ever had with Lea.”

“What would you like me to say? I can try to speak with her if you like.” He was smiling. I narrowed my eyes at him and glared.

“No. I don't like. You're happy about this, aren't you?”

“You must admit it does take away some of our problems. With Lea planning everything we just have to show up and not kill anyone.” He looked very pointedly at me.

“I haven't killed anyone at a party in years, thank you very much.” I scratched at the knee of my jeans. “You know why you're not freaking out about this properly? You don't know Lea. There'll be severed heads as centerpieces and blood in all the cups. We have to stop her.”

Now if only I had a clue how to do that.

~

“Most people have to pay money to get someone to plan their wedding. Maybe you should just take it as the gift it is and stop complaining?”

“Again, you don't know Lea. This is going to be a disaster. Her ideas of what's appropriate do not match anything even remotely acceptable in human society. She'll turn any guest who misbehaves into a deer and then get her hounds to hunt them. She's dangerous.” I took a deep swig of my root beer and flipped through another few pages in my book. I wasn't having any luck finding something I could use to back Lea off. If something didn't pop out to me I was going to have to resort to trying to talk to her again.

“So you keep saying. But she's trying to be nice here, right?” Murphy continued to devour her salad, crunching through it like a manic rabbit.

“So she says. So it appears. You can't trust it though. Lea's sidhe and that makes her a talented liar and a master manipulator by nature. The more harmless something looks with one of the sidhe the more dangerous it really is.”

“You're sure this isn't just your control issues rearing their heads?” She left off the 'again', which I appreciated.

“I don't have control issues. I don't even really care about the wedding. I just don't want Lea running things. Last time she was in town for more than two minutes she almost destroyed one of the Swords.”

“And she saved your life. And Michael's.”

“So she could try and turn me into a hound later.” The door to Mac's opened and then shut again. I watched a pair of teenaged girls step lightly down into the bar, grinning and talking with their heads close together. I recognized them both; they'd been here before, always together. It was cute, the way they kept trying to convince Mac to serve them beer. “Lea's gifts are always sharp on both edges.”

“Control issues...” Murphy singsonged it under her breath.

“Pot. Kettle. Did you bring the invitation?”

“Yeah.” She reached down and pulled a rolled piece of parchment out from the bag at her feet. “It's really nice, actually. Very old fashioned but that makes sense.”

I took it from Murph and unrolled it. The invitation wasn't on paper, the texture was all wrong for that. Vellum, maybe. Lea's calligraphy was highly ornate, but legible. She'd probably written the invitations using magic just to get that slightly too perfect look to the writing.

I skimmed over the invitation, looking for any mention of 'bring your own sacrificial human'. It was oddly normal though.

'You are cordially invited to attend the union of Harriet Dresden and John Marcone...' yadda yadda. Nothing strange. Lea had even been careful to only use our public names.

“Hey, I get to be the maid of honor, right?” Murph rapped on the back of the invitation with the butt of her fork.

“Not having a maid of honor.”

A crouton bounced off of my forehead.

“Ow! Hey!”

“If you don't put me in this wedding I will be very cross with you Harriet Dresden. Do you really want to see what I can do to you if I'm mad?” I lowered the invitation and looked at Murphy. Her jaw was set, her eyes meeting mine without hesitation. 

“I'd really just like to know what I did in my last life to deserve all this shit?”

“Knowing you, you burned down some poor village somewhere.”

“Hey! That's not fair. I've never burned down more than one building at a time.” As I spoke the door opened again. I looked up out of habit. Too many people had tried to kill me too often for me to be able to ignore the comings and goings around me.

My completely justifiable caution let me watch as Donald Morgan, Warden of the White Council and general pain in every spot I had walked through the door and headed down the steps. His eyes searched the room once, then again before they settled firmly on me.

Dammit.

Murph was right. I'd probably been Mrs. O'Leary's cow in my last life. It was the only explanation for the shit that kept getting dumped on me.


	22. Chapter 22

“Harry? What is it?” Murph spoke softly as she turned her head, making the motion look casual; as though she were just scanning the room without ever stopping on any single person. “Who's the guy?”

“Morgan.”

“The Warden that chased you around when you were a kid?”

“One and the same.” Morgan paused by the bar and said something to Mac. The silent man nodded and I could imagine the non-comittal grunt that came with the familiar gesture. Morgan began to make his way across the room, something that wouldn't take long at all. “Hey Murph, could you scoot over a table or two? He's not going to want to talk with you at the table.”

“You sure?” Murphy'd stopped pretending not to notice Morgan and was watching him with me. I liked the hard look in her eyes, really, but it wasn't going to be any help. The strap of a duffle bag crossed Morgan's chest and I knew that he was carrying his sword in the bag. Even though he wasn't carrying it openly there was something about the awareness of it's weight in his movements that made me sure he was here acting officially. 

“Yeah. Morgan hasn't tried to cut my head off in years.” I said the last just as he came up to our table. A dark frown creased his features as he looked down at the two of us. It would have been polite to stand and offer him a seat. I leaned back in my chair with an insolence I didn't entirely feel and took another swig of my drink.

“Dresden.” Morgan could pack a lot of meaning into one word. The only thing he'd said was my name and I could hear his disapproval at me airing Council business in front of a mortal, his annoyance at having to deal with me, and his general contempt for my life in general and my intrusion on his nice, neat version of reality in specific.

“Mister Morgan.” Murphy rose from her chair in a smooth, easy move. If you were paying attention it was easy to see the strength and skill she held in her body. I knew Morgan was paying attention. Murph held out her hand and after a second of hesitation Morgan took it. They shook, staring one another down without actually letting their eyes meet. I didn't smile, but it was close. I'll say it until I'm blue in the face: Murphy is good people.

Murphy picked up her plate and her drink and settled back down at an empty table just out of earshot. 

“Warden Morgan.” I made a sweeping gesture with my bottle, indicating the chair Murphy had just vacated. “Come into my parlor.”

“You shouldn't be including mortals in Council business.” Morgan sat, his posture stiff. I wasn't sure if it was just the iron rod he'd had his spine replaced with or having that huge sword behind him. Probably the iron rod. Probably.

“I wasn't aware that there was any Council business going on, so I haven't been talking about this non-existent business. Murphy is my friend. We talk. We talk about personal things. I've spent hours talking about you and the Council's policy on driving young people on the edge to paranoia and psychotic breaks. I've also mentioned the crappy self-fulfilling prophecy angle of it all. Because it's very personal to me. See how that works?”

“She's mortal. And mundane.”

“Ouch.” I glanced over his shoulder. “I wouldn't let Murph hear you call her 'mundane', Moragn. She'd get angry. And you wouldn't like her when she's angry.”

Mac brought over a glass of tea then left, his silent presence reassuring even from across the room. The world could catch on fire and rabid monkey zombies run through the streets but Mac would keep on quietly making the best damned food I'd ever eaten. Also, I was fairly certain that if the chips were down he'd have my back.

“Look, I'm totally loving this whole friendly chat that we're having here but I have a sewer to crawl through so if we could get on with this?”

“A sewer?”

“No. Not really. I just would rather- You know what, it becomes less funny if I have to explain it to you. What do you want?”

He reached across the table and picked up the wedding invitation. “Invitations like this were delivered to each member of the Senior Council. Is it true?”

“You mean, am I really getting married?”

He nodded, face grim. Then again, it was Morgan so that pretty much went without saying.

“Then yes. Should I assume that you're here to tender the Council's thrilled felicitations?”

Morgan sighed and seemed to...deflate a little. He didn't do anything so human as slump but some of the stiffness went out of him. He took a deep drink of his tea as though he wished it was something a lot stronger.

“In that case, I'm here to inform you that the Senior Council is convening a hearing.” He pulled an envelope out of his coat and slid it over to me. “Your presence as well as Baron Marcone's is required.”

I ran my left hand over the envelope but it was more of a formality than anything else. Morgan, for all that I loathed his paranoid soul wouldn't pull something like that. It went against his basic personality. Oh, he'd kill me alright, but he'd want it to be legal. The envelope was as clean as I'd thought it would be so I ripped into it.

The letter that slid out into my hand was on a heavy paper, nicely watermarked and everything. Very expensive. I set it down in a circle of condensation on the table and scrunched it up a bit. It's the little things in life, really.

It was written, of course, in Latin. I frowned at it and started to skim through it. I'd read it thoroughly later, when I wasn't having to worry about keeping half of my attention on the room at large.

“Do you need me to translate for you?”

I shot a quick look up at Morgan. There wasn't even any detectable sarcasm or smugness in his tone. Very suspicious.

“No. My reading comprehension's better than my spoken.” Which hadn't always been true. Yet another gift from Lash. My Latin wasn't perfect but it was a hell of a lot more functional than it had been before her. I finished reading after only a few minutes. “Okay.” I folded the letter and the envelope up and slipped them both into an inner pocket of my jacket. “You may inform the Council that Baron Marcone and I will be more than happy to attend this hearing of theirs.

“Provided that the hearing is held in Chicago. We will be responsible for security and host duties, of course.” I tapped my fingers against the glass of my bottle and waited.

“I will take your response back to the Council.” Morgan took another drink and sort of...glanced around. As though he were unconsciously making sure that no one was watching him do whatever it was he was doing. “You realize by asking that they come here that you're giving the impression of separation from the Council. Your case would be better served coming to Edinburgh.”

“I'm giving no such impression. I've got a job. So does Marcone. We've also got a daughter who isn't two years old yet and we had a kidnapping scare not all that long ago. I'm not giving up my safety unless I have to.”

“You took your daughter and cross the country a few months ago.”

I twitched. I didn't show it, but I twitched. The Council wasn't supposed to keep such a close eye on me. Not since the Doom had been lifted. Morgan knowing about that was enough to make the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

“Personal business. Which means, none of yours. Are we done here?”

“Not quite.” He rolled his shoulder in a gesture that took in Murphy's presence behind him. “I know you treat it as a laughing matter but she is a mortal. Your continued disregard for the Council's laws is not going to endear your cause to them.”

“Murphy is an invaluable resource, as I argued before the Council last year. They want supernatural beasties kept quiet? It works better with someone on the inside of the mortal police force. Trust me. I've tried it both ways: working with her and working around her. With is better, every time. 

“Since when are you so concerned for me getting a fair hearing anyway? I'd think you'd be thrilled I've gotten myself into hot water again.”

Morgan said nothing as he rose and left the bar. I watched him until he was gone, the door thunking shut with a familiar solid sound behind him. Murphy strolled back over to my table as soon as we were sure he was completely gone.

“What is it?”

“A summons, basically.” I ran my hand over my jacket. The paper inside was too thin to really be felt but I could swear I could anyway. “I'll have to read through it more carefully, but it sounds like some jackass on the Council,” The Merlin, I was sure. No matter whose name was actually on the paperwork I knew it was the Merlin's work, “Is claiming that my marriage to Marcone is a diplomatic matter involving Accords members and that entitles them to stick their noses in and muck with things.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning I don't know what, exactly. That's why I need to read over it more carefully and talk to Bob. And Marcone. I should probably mention it to him before the Senior Council calls to make their travel arrangements.” I shook my head. “I don't get it, Murph. I don't know why they've got their panties in a bunch over me getting married.”

“Probably because they hate almost everything you do?”

“Up to and including the stuff that saves their asses.” I rose and stretched, feeling the soft popping of my spine as I did. “I wish I could get a hold of Ebenezar. He knows what's going on and I don't know why he didn't at least explain it to me.”

On my way back to the house I swung by Thomas' apartment. He was due back today and I wanted to break the news to him before Lea rented a sky writing plane. Or maybe just rearranged the clouds herself. It was Lea, many things were possible.

I'd been by earlier in the week, right after my little talk with Lea and hidden the invitation. I fully intended to give it to him if for no other reason than I thought he'd find it hilarious, I just didn't want him to get it before I had a chance to tell him about it.

I beat Thomas to his apartment but only by ten minutes or so. Just enough time for me to shove the invitation, which had somehow removed itself from the kitchen drawer I'd hidden it in and reappeared on the coffee table, between the cushions of the couch and sit on it.

“I didn't notice any burning buildings on my way through Chicago.”

“Hardy har har. You should quit your day job and become a comedian.” I tried to slouch comfortably against the back of the couch but it was impossible. The damn thing had been designed by a sadist. “Things aren't on fire around here all the time. Sometimes they explode.”

Thomas paused on his way into the hallway to give me a long look.

“The fact that you think that's a good thing is a very bad sign. Do we need to have the talk about inappropriate glee at explosions and fire again?”

“No. My glee is perfectly healthy.”

His response was muffled and unintelligible, which was probably for the best. When he came back out he'd changed out of his traveling clothes and into a battered pair of jeans and a worn thin t-shirt. Outside the apartment he was a fashion plate. Inside he was still a fashion plate, but a very casually dressed and comfortable one.

“Do you need me to face down another pissed off horde of monkeys? Because I have to tell you my cleaners were not pleased with the monkey poo scent I brought them.”

“You really need to let that go. That was years ago and you more than paid me back for that by getting me a job on a porn set. Besides, I've almost gotten you killed a dozen times since then. Pick something better to whine about.” I shifted on the couch, the invitation poking me in the ass. “And there's no emergency. Not yet, at any rate. I have something I need to tell you.” I threw my hands up before he could make another comment. “Nothing bad. Marcone and I are-”

“Are you pregnant again? Because if you are, I've got to tell you you two are being hellishly irresponsible and I'm going to kick both of your asses. Marcone's harder than yours, out of deference for the offspring. I mean I love Maggie but come on.”

“What? No. Hell no. We're being careful.” A few not so careful events flashed through my mind and I felt my face going hot and red. “Well. Mostly. Not that it's any of your business anyway. I have heard of birth control you know.”

“Butters can't write prescriptions.”

“I have another doctor now! For that anyway.” I sliced my hands through the air, ending the conversation. None of this was anything I ever wanted to talk to my brother about. Ever. “Not pregnant. Moving on...Marcone and I are getting married.”

I waited for him to jump up and do another version of his happy dance. He'd been so thrilled when I'd gotten pregnant with Maggie that it had shocked me. I'd figured out later that it was all a part of his family issues. Thomas, more than anyone else I knew, longed for a 'normal' family. Unfortunately for him I was the closest he was likely to get.

He didn't jump up and give me a hug. He didn't even smile. My brother looked at me for a second, nodded to himself and then stood with brisk purpose. Thomas vanished back into his bedroom. When he came back he'd pulled on his heavy leather coat and was carrying a baseball bat.

“Seriously?” I kicked out my legs as he walked in front of me. It didn't trip him but it wasn't meant to. Just make him stop, which it did. “You didn't freak out when I got pregnant but you're going to go beat Marcone up now that we're getting married?”

“I'm not going to beat him up. I like my face the way it is and he's got more men than I do stamina. I'm just going to go do my brotherly duty and give him a good talking to.” He turned his head but I could still see the edge of his smirk.

I grabbed his coat. “Been there, done that. You're way too late for the shovel talk. Sorry. If it makes you feel better, Lea and Murphy gave it to him. And Murphy threw him to the floor and came away without a scratch on her.”

“Damn.” He tossed the bat into one of the chairs and dropped to the couch beside me. “I was kind of looking forward to that.”

“You could always try it on the next guy Lara dates? Or, hey! Inari's boyfriend. Threaten him. He probably needs it.”

“Not as much fun. They'd actually be scared of me.”

“True. So how'd he do it?”

“I did it. And before you ask, I threw an orgy, let him play with my magic and then popped the question. All the blood in his brain was elsewhere so he said yes.”

“When's the wedding?”

“That's the other thing. So Lea, you remember Lea? Decided to invite-” I leaned to one side and reached for the invitation. The invitation that was no longer under my butt. “Dammit! Where'd the thing get to now?” I looked at the table; not there. It wasn't visible on the kitchen counter or any of the other furniture either.

“What're you looking for?”

“Lea's invitation! It's a scroll,” I twirled my fingers around as I stood and started to kneel down to check under the couch. Trust Lea to make enchant the damn things. I was lucky it hadn't grown teeth and bitten me.

“Like this?” Thomas rapped the end of something gently on the back of my head. I looked up. The freaking scroll was in his hand.

“Yes! Where was it?”

“My jacket pocket.”

“I hate her. So. Much.”

“Ah, you love her. You are a cuddly bunny of love for Lea.”

“I also hate you.” I smacked the hand holding the scroll and sat on the end table. It was more comfortable than any of the other furniture, which was sad. “Right. So. Lea thinks she's planning the wedding. I'm working on that. 

“We don't have a date set or anything else. I'll let you know when we do. Part of the problem, now, is that apparently the Council has decided that this is somehow a problem for them.”

“So they're going to be in town.”

“So they're going to be in town.” I nodded and scuffed my boot through his carpet, mashing it down and getting it dirty. Served him right. White carpet. He was just begging for it. “I'll let you know when they decide to show up, but you know it means you won't be able to come around until they scuttle off back to their holes.”

“You could always run away to Vegas.”

I thought about it. I thought about it for a good long while. Then I sighed and rolled my eyes.

“I'm pretty sure they'd just follow us. And it wouldn't solve the problem since we'd have to come back to Chicago eventually. But good thinking. We'll keep that as Plan R.”

“'Plan R'?”

“Plan Run-the-Hell-Away.”

“Who dies in Plan R?”

“All the people in my way.”

“So business as usual then?”

“Pretty much.”


	23. Chapter 23

Someone was in my office.

Not usually something that should be a problem. That was how I made my living. People showed up with problems, they came into my office and I helped them. Typically their problem was something fairly mundane and easy to deal with; trolls, poltergeists, nixies and their less common male counterparts nix, faerie infestation, spells, wonky magical talent popping up. Easy enough. Of course some problems were harder to deal with; vampires stalking a person, bigger and badder faeries taking an unhealthy interest in a single human family – I'd had a run in with a banshee a few years back and I still hadn't regained the full range of hearing in one ear, the occasional sea monster though I suppose lake monster would be the proper term. Thankfully that last didn't happen very often. They were a pain in the ass and led to plenty of stupid behavior on the parts of certain people whose names shall not be mentioned.

There were always the truly nasty spirits as well. Back at the beginning of my career, before I'd made nice with Mort and felt able to call on him when shit that was up his alley happened, I'd had to deal with one woman who was being stalked by Herman Mudgett's shade. That had not been fun and I'd nearly gotten my client killed.

Which was all normal craziness, really. For me at any rate.

So the problem with there being someone in my office wasn't that they were likely to bring insanity to my life; that was what they paid me for. No, the problem was that whoever it was was on the inside of my office and I was on the outside.

I'd come here straight after leaving the Carpenter's house. Molly didn't want to say anything to her parents but the little fae I'd asked to keep an eye on her family were starting to worry her. They'd taken to hiding out in the kitchen almost exclusively when they weren't on 'patrol' and making tiny little... cave paintings was the closest I could come to describing the works of art...of Charity. Molly'd been cleaning them off the walls and destroying others, but it was rightfully starting to creep her out.

I wasn't sure my little talk with Jax and his second in command over there had done any good, really, but hopefully they'd at least stop leaving their offerings where Charity might find them. I did not want to have that discussion with her. Not at all.

I didn't have any appointments scheduled but I had left a couple reference books here the last time I'd been in and I wanted to move them back home before I forgot about them again. There weren't any over signs of a break-in. My window was intact, the door frame unmolested and I couldn't see any scratches where someone had picked the lock. Admittedly, that could just mean that they were a lot better at lock picking than I was. After all, they had managed to get into my office in spite of leaving no signs of the entry. 

I couldn't see them through the frosted glass and I couldn't hear them moving around. But I knew they were in there. It was like the opposite of walking into a house and knowing that it was empty when it should have had people in it. There was a sense of presence and life that there shouldn't have been. 

I'd come stomping up to the door in my boots the same as always, not thinking about stealth since I hadn't been expecting company. Which should teach me a lesson, shouldn't it? No one ever announces that they're going to break into your home or your office, do they? One day I would learn not to ever let my guard down. I just had to hope that day came before someone caught me napping.

My pause, the space where I'd stopped and reached for the handle as I realized that my office didn't feel uninhabited, had only lasted a fraction of a second. I moved even as I complained, silently, about the unfairness and wrongness inherent in some asshat breaking into my office, my office on my day off and sitting in my seat...they probably had their dirty boots up on my desk too, assuming they weren't under the desk planting a bomb or the magical equivalent thereof. Bastard. I laughed, ruefully and knelt as though I'd only stopped because I'd dropped something. Then I stood again and kept on moving down the hall.

Past my office and on around the corner of the stairwell until I thought it should be clear to whoever was inside my office that I was headed very much elsewhere. Then I rattled the door handle on an empty office, muffled a cheerful 'Hi!' to the empty air and kicked lightly at the baseboard to simulate a door closing. 

Then I kept on walking, quietly this time, circling my floor along the wall until I made a complete circuit and was back beside my door. People never believe how sneaky I can be until they see me at it. I'm tall and gawky looking, but that's it. I only look gawky and uncoordinated. I've got nothing on plenty of the people I know; Thomas doesn't count on account of him having an unfair advantage, but Marcone made me look like the Incredible Hulk on a rampage during a fight and don't even get me started on the trouble shooters Marcone employed. It wasn't fair how gracefully they could move while hell exploded around them and fire rained from the sky.

Back beside my own door I stopped and crouched, sliding my staff back in my grip so that only a few inches of the tip were in front, the remaining length of it sticking out behind me like a flagpole. It was an awkward as hell grip and I spared a moment to think that Elaine might have been right about switching to smaller foci. After all it really didn't matter if my staff was the biggest on the block as long as it got the job done, right?

With my free hand I reached over and slid my key into the lock. This was the part that was tricky. I kept my locks well oiled and cared for but there was still a certain amount of noise that just couldn't be helped. If whoever was inside had any magical talent, and given my life it was best to assume that they did, then they would feel me pulling together a spell to silence the noise of the lock. It was also a waste of energy to cast a spell to muffle such small sounds. I went with the thinking that they'd assume it was noise from one of the other tenants on the floor, especially since they wouldn't be able to see my shape through the window like they'd be expecting.

My key slid into the lock silently and I turned it quickly, letting the bolt slide back smoothly. It made a single, quiet clack that even I had to strain to hear and I was kneeling practically at ear level. I waited but there was no sound of movement from within. Okay. Fine. Either my break and enter guest didn't hear it or was waiting for me to swing the door open and present a silhouette to be shot. I turned the handle and gave the door the tiniest of pushes, letting the slightly uneven hang of the frame and momentum take it open the rest of the way.

One last deep breath to steady my nerves and I swung my staff into the opening, ready to whip a blast of force through my office. It would wreck my furniture but my office was small enough that no matter where he was inside the blast would catch my new friend and knock them for a loop.

“For-”

“Hoss, get in here. You look ridiculous.”

“-zar- Hells bells! Ebenezar McCoy!” If I'd known his middle name I'd have thrown that in there too. I leaned around the doorway as I stood. Ebenezar sat behind my desk, his feet politely on the floor with a look of pleased amusement. I growled and walked in, kicking the door shut behind me. I also kept my eyes on his. Nothing happened, which was what was supposed to happen. 

“That was good, Hoss, the whole routine. If I didn't know you I'd likely have been fooled.” He nodded his head, the afternoon sunlight casting bright patterns on his shining bald pate. “Have a seat, would you? We don't have long.”

“Empty fucking night, Eb. What if I'd blasted you through my door? Or used my gun?” Even as my mouth ran on I winced. There was that little tightening of the skin around Ebenezar's eyes at my use of a distinctly White Court phrase. Way to go Harry. Sometimes I wish I had a working brain to mouth filter. “Sorry. Habit.”

“Bad habit, Hoss.” He nodded to my visitor chair again. “Sit down. Please.”

I did, out of long habit if nothing else.

“Nice to see you Eb. So what the hell's going on? I've already gotten the official notice from the Council. They really can't just keep their hands to themselves on my personal life?”

“It's not that simple, no. They're...concerned about the political problems here.”

“What political problems? I'm on the Council, but not the Senior Council. I don't have any more power or influence than any other random Wizard. I mean, hell. If Wizard Liberty or...or...Listens-to-Wind or hell, even Captain Luccio was getting ready to get married to Marcone I could see their point. But it's just me.”

“Yeah. It's you. You underestimate your influence Hoss. The younger generation looks up to you and if you started a stink about something in the Council I'd lay even money that a bunch of them would side with you. You could rip the Council apart if you wanted to and the Merlin knows it.”

“Fuck that. He knows good and well I don't have the temperment or the desire to do something like that. I hate politics.”

“Doesn't matter. You have the capability. You have the inside track. And Marcone more than makes up for your personal lack of caring on the matter. Once you're married, his interests become yours.”

“Um...no. No more than they are now at any rate.”

“Maybe so.” His tone told me how much he didn't believe it. “But that's not the way the Merlin thinks. There's also the matter of your connection to me.”

“Again, so what?” I raised my hands in a shrug. “As far as anyone knows, you were my reluctant teacher-cum-jailer until I was deemed an adult by wizard standards.”

“Even without them knowing everything they know that I've demonstrated a...willingness to do stupid things in your defense before. Also, you're my only living apprentice. Without any living children you're unofficially considered my heir. Marcone influences you, you influence me and the White Council starts working for the Baron of Chicago's interests and not the good of the world.”

“That's perfect.” I got up and paced around the office. “Old school fucking- I hate the Merlin. Have I mentioned that?”

“Too often and too loudly for my comfort, yes.”

“So what does he want?”

“I'm not sure yet. We don't sit around and chat about our days, Hoss. Langtry isn't going to let me in on his little plans but my best guess is that he's going to try and use this to get you on his side of things.”

“Blackmail me into joining his voting bloc? I've mentioned how much I hate politics, right? Right. Fucking bullshit.”

“That's my best guess Hoss. I could be wrong, and I'm trying to look into it but everyone's keeping their mouths shut, dividing along party lines.”

“Gah.” I wished I had a mini-fridge with some of Mac's ale in it. Or a flask of whiskey like all the good P.I.'s kept in the stories. Lacking either of those things I wanted the Merlin to take a flying leap off the top of a tall mountain. Any tall mountain would do. I doubted that would happen any more than a bottle of alcohol would appear in my pocket through wishing. “Any ideas on what I should do?”

“I'd love to say dump Marcone, but-”

“But that isn't going to happen. Not now, not- I won't say ever, but if we ever do break with each other it won't be because some tin plated old man with an inflated ego wants us to.” And I left it at that. If he wanted to take some of the old man comments personally, well. I had no delusions about how he still felt about Marcone.

“There's that, yes. And I don't think it would do any good. By now they know about Maggie; that she's Marcone's daughter. Even if you didn't marry him and stopped seeing him altogether you'd still be connected to him through her. He's not going to lose this opportunity to gain some power. Not that easily.

“So I suggest you and Marcone get your shit together and wait to see what tack he's going to take. There'll be the initial meeting, but you know we can't solve nothing in one meeting. You'll have your chance to defend yourselves and make counter-arguments.” He laughed. “Very few things we like better than arguing.”

“This sucks.”

“That it does.” He pulled out his old pocket watch and looked at it. “I've got to be moving on. The rest of the Senior Council will be meeting soon and I can't be late. This'll probably be the last chance I get to talk to you before this all starts to go down, Hoss. I'm already compromised as far as the Merlin and his cronies are concerned. I've got to give off the look of impartiality if nothing else.”

“You couldn't have told me any of this sooner? I've been trying to get a hold of you.”

“No, I couldn't.” He stood and headed for the door.

“Why not?”

“Because I didn't know what the hell was going on, Hoss. Because you made yourself a royal mess and you're just going to have to deal with it? Or maybe it was because I was busy trying to keep it from coming to this. Take your pick.”

I let him make it to the door. Mostly because I was counting to ten and trying not to lose my temper. Ebenezar was mad at me, and frustrated. I'd give him a little leeway. A little.

“I wasn't planning on coming in today. What would you have done if I hadn't shown up?”

“Left you a note, Hoss.”

~

“This could have been timed better is all I'm saying.” I yanked Maggie's stroller from the trunk of the car before the driver could touch it and snapped it into usefulness with what was becoming unconscious skill. Of course I figured as soon as I got really good at putting the thing together she'd stop wanting to use it.

As it was she kicked and fussed for a minute, yelling “No” and “Walk” at the highest volume she could reach. Which was scary and impressive given the size of her lungs. Then I got her strapped in and bribed her into silence with a sippy cup of fruit smoothie.

“Regardless of what the Council may try, we will be getting married Harry.” Marcone brushed off the front of his slacks, removing the remnants of Maggie's lunch.

“Yes. And?”

“Therefore, getting the legal paperwork in order must be done. Better that it's done now so that we can focus all of our attention and energy on the Council.”

“I guess. But did we have to come to New York? Couldn't your pet lawyer come to Chicago?”

Marcone sighed and took hold of Maggie's stroller, pushing her toward the front of the building. I looked up. And up and up. Chicago was a big city, no doubt about that but it was my city. I was comfortable with it. I knew it. New York was different. Not mine. Not familiar. Everything seemed too loud and too tall. I didn't like it.

I caught up to Marcone and elbowed him, gently, in the side. We walked through the doors of the building together.

“No, Harvey couldn't just come to Chicago. Believe it or not he does have other responsibilities and other clients. The world does not revolve around us or even Chicago.”

“I am shocked. Shocked I tell you.”

We got some odd looks when we stopped at the reception desks but I thought that was mostly due to the strange visual of a man who wore thousand dollar suits pushing a stroller with a baby wearing a bright purple pair of overalls, accompanied by a tall woman in jeans, t-shirt and a long leather coat. Never mind the two guys who were very clearly not just friends of the family that were following closely behind us. I mean it's not like we were the Addams Family or anything, but I doubted we were the normal kind of people who walked into this lobby.

We weren't about to drag Maggie's stroller up the thirty-six flights of stairs to Pearson Hardman so we took the elevator. I stood in the very back and thought non-offensive thoughts at the machinery. It must have worked because we made it there with only one tiny little flicker of the lights and the chamber orchestra music that passed for elevator music around here cutting out on us. All in all one of the best elevator rides I'd ever taken.

The lobby we exited into was nice, if very clean and modern looking. Lots of chrome and glass with some real live potted plants here and there to add color. Personally I preferred more wood and texture. Color. Life. Whatever. It wasn't my office.

We only had to wait maybe a minute before Harvey's little buddy Mike appeared. He smiled and thanked the receptionist and then made his way over to us.

“Mr. Marcone. Ms. Dresden.” We shook and then he bent over and held out his hand to Maggie. “Miss Maggie.” Maggie giggled and held out her balled up fist.

“Boo.”

Mike looked up at me.

“'Boom'.” I held up my hand and fist-bumped the air.

“Got it.” Mike turned back to Maggie and bumped her fist with his. “Boom.”

“Boo!”

“If you could follow me? Harvey's been caught up in a meeting with Ms. Pearson. He won't be much longer.”

We passed through a room that hummed with activity. People on their phones, typing away at computers. Wheeling and dealing, doing whatever it was lawyer's did when they weren't in court. The offices and conference rooms were along the outside wall, giving their occupants the only really nice view of the city.

Ten minutes or so after Mike led us into Harvey's office the man himself arrived. A shorter, angry man followed him down the hall but hurried on by as Harvey stopped to speak to his assistant, Donna. I waved to her behind Harvey's back and she waved back when Harvey turned his head to follow the other mans progress. I liked her.

“John. Harry.” More hand shaking and then we could finally get down to business. “Good to see you again and congratulations.” Harvey sat down behind his desk and pulled over a thin folder. “I hope you don't mind if we cut right to the chase?”

“Not at all.”

“Good. These,” He slid two sheets across the desk in front of each of us. I looked at mine and then over at Marcone's. Identical copies of the pre-nuptial agreement. Nice. “are just the finalised agreements. I know you've both read these already but if you could read them again for me? I do have one question for you, Harry.”

“Yes?” I started to read through the contract carefully. I didn't expect Marcone to try and screw me but this wasn't really about him; a wizard should never sign anything without reading it first. Really no one should but it was a little more dangerous for wizards.

“You only had one stipulation?”

“Yeah.” I marked my place and looked up. “If we divorce, I get custody of George.”


	24. Chapter 24

I got the idea that there was something else going on when Marcone invited Harvey and Mike back to our hotel room after dinner. Schmoozing with the lawyer was one thing. Bringing him home with a cranky baby was another.

We left Harvey on the couch in the main room, because somehow we'd gotten upgraded to a suite, something that happened a scary amount of the time even outside of Chicago and Mike wandering around checking everything out.

“Care to fill me in on the super secret master plan? Or is this a bid for another orgy? Because I have to tell you, Mike's not my type. And I'm pretty sure if you and Harvey tried to have sex reality would compress into a black hole due to the weight of all that ego in one bed and we'd all wind up in a Mirror Universe.” I wrestled Maggie into her pajamas and got her settled into her crib. “I'm against that since I don't think I can successfully rock a beard.”

“I'm certain the universe could survive Harvey and I in close quarters.” 

Something about his tone made me pause and give him a long look. “You and...no. You're shitting me.”

“Perhaps.” Marcone checked to make sure that the bedroom door was shut and leaned against it.

“Or you're not shitting me. And it's already happened. This is the Mirror Universe. Holy crap.” I patted my sides. “There's a universe out there where I'm...what? A guy? Evil? An evil guy? Or wait. If this is the Mirror Universe, that makes me the evil version. What's the opposite of me?”

“Polite?” I threw Maggie's stuffed wolf at him. Marcone caught it and tucked it under his arm. “I suspect that the Mirror Universe version of you would be evil, as would the rest of that universe. I don't recall any examples of gender change simply due to a shift to the Mirror Universe. Though I don't rule out the existence of a universe where you are male. If multiple universes do exist it's a certainty that there is at least one.”

“I am impressed by your grasp of Star Trek canon. Don't change the subject. Why are Harvey and Mike here and not back in their apartment 'associating'?” I did the air quotes in the most obnoxious way I could.

“We're going to be meeting with the Senior Council next week.”

“I'm not likely to forget that.”

“When we do meet with them I would like to have Harvey with us.”

“Sorry? You want to bring your mundane lawyer with us to a super secret meeting of supernatural societies? At what point did that sound like a good idea to you?”

“Harry. I'm not a lawyer. Are you a lawyer?”

“Hell no. What difference does that make?”

“Do you know how I rose to the position I now hold? Not within the Organization but in polite society?”

“Subterfuge and being a crafty bastard. Which, by the way, would also be my answer if you'd asked about how you got to the top of the Chicago outfit. Only with a little extra gunfire.”

“True enough. A large part of it though is that I know how to hire skilled people and I know enough to trust to their expertise. This is one of those times.”

“You can't just bring in a mortal lawyer, John. Why don't you just borrow one from Monoc? I know they've got a whole floor of them at least.”

“I could hire one, yes. But they wouldn't be mine. Harvey is my lawyer. I can trust him to have my interests at heart and not some secret agenda owing to his full time employer.”

“But- you can't tell him about-” I waved my hands through the air. “Everything. It's not...oh.” Sometimes I'm slow. Sue me.

“Exactly. You can't tell him because of the Council's rules. Not in this case. Your hands need to be as clean as possible here.”

“But you can. Because you're not Council.”

Marcone spread his hands in a gesture of 'and there you have it'.

“He's not going to believe you if you just tell him.”

“Which is where you come in. We're going to have show and tell Harry. I'm going to tell and then you get to show.”

“That's splitting hairs.” We smiled at each other. “Cool.”

We headed back out into the main room. I sat in one of the cushy chairs and let Marcone work. It was interesting to watch, being on the outside like this. Usually I was the one trying to explain how the impossible thing was absolutely possible. Not only possible but perfectly real and true. I was used to getting the full force of peoples' disbelief. From the peanut gallery it wasn't any less annoying but it was less personal. While he spoke I took stock of the room and ran through ideas for my demonstrations.

Harvey didn't give a lot away. Years of practice in front of judges and other attorneys. Mike was far more human. At first he copied Harvey as much as he could; keeping the perfect blank but interested face. As Marcone went on though he lost that. His expression became a mix of incredulity and a desire for it to be true. 

Magic. We all believe in it when we're children, it's only as we get older that it goes out of our worlds. 

Well. For most people anyway. 

“John. This is...” I did enjoy seeing Harvey Spector lost for words. Trying to be diplomatic while telling a high paying client that he had slipped his track.

“Incredible, I know. Hard to believe. Trust me, I understand. I had to see it first hand in order to wrap my mind around it too.” John looked my way. I stretched my legs out and stood.

“Right. I'm going to need an assistant. Mike, if you wouldn't mind?”

“Ah...what're you going to do?” Mike was leaning forward on the couch, elbows braced on his knees. Eager. Excited but trying not to be because this couldn't possibly be real.

“Nothing that will hurt you. Hopefully I won't even scorch the furniture.” I smiled, trying to play it off as a joke. I was going to set something on fire but it wasn't going to be the furniture. “I just need you to help me with the set-up. So you guys can see there's no trick.”

Mike started to look at Harvey, for permission maybe, or just reassurance but stopped himself and nearly jumped to his feet. I could see the disbelief, such a perfectly rational and adult way of thinking, settling into him. He was more than willing to play along because he was convincing himself that we were playing a joke on him.

“Okay. What do you need me to do?”

“Go get some water. Get it from anywhere you want in the hotel and use any sort of container you like. We'll wait.”

“Water.”

“Water.”

“Tap or bottled?”

“Like I said, whatever suits your fancy. It doesn't matter to me. Tough if you get bottled water you need to pick out a bowl or something else to pour it into. It'll be easier for me to work with it that way.” I picked up a room key card off the end table and handed it to him. Hopefully it hadn't been in contact with me long enough to die.

“Okay. Ten minutes.”

Eight minutes later Mike was back with a tureen and four bottles of water.

“I borrowed this from the kitchen.” He tried to hand his prizes to me but I stepped back and shook my head.

“Just set it down on one of the tables. Just make sure everyone can see it.”

Mike cast around and then chose one of the small tables against the far wall. He carried the tureen and the water over to it and then dragged it to the middle of the sitting area, struggling not to drop anything. 

“Great. Now pour a bottle into the bowl.”

Mike did, giving me a look before he shot an amused one over his shoulder at Harvey. The older man shrugged in a very clear 'humour the crazy clients' gesture.

“Stay there. Now, nothing up my sleeves.” I held up my hands with a little flourish. Completely unnecessary but good showmanship. Mike took a small step back but remained close enough for what I wanted. I pulled my concentration together and focused on the water. The spell itself was a simple one, nothing too explosive or showy. A second or two of focus, my magic grabbing hold of the flowing energy of the water itself and then a quiet, “Aquilevitas.”

The water rose in a sheet, drops of it trying to separate from the main mass and fall back into the bowl. It made a pretty, and impossible tableau. Rather than fling the water at something or just let it fall back into the bowl as I usually would I invested a trickle of power to keep the spell running. The water hung in mid-air, a waterfall that came from nowhere and went nowhere.

“Uh. That. That's not possible.” Mike was crouched beside the table, looking up at the water I was holding. He grabbed the tureen and moved it out from under the water. Turned it over, ran his hands over it. Then he started to poke around the little table and the floor around me. Harvey said something to Marcone, too quietly for me to hear. Then he was up and circling me as well. 

“An interesting trick, Harry. How are you doing it?”

“Why don't you tell me?” 

He gave me a look, calculating. Then he nodded and set about trying to find the strings or the man behind the curtain. Harvey did the same things Mike had done, the two of them conversing softly as they worked. I watched them out of the corners of my eyes and watched Marcone watching us. It took them twenty minutes to work up to actually touching the water. They'd tried everything they could think of and were left with no evidence of strings or any sort of machinery keeping the water suspended. 

“So maybe it's not really water.”

I smiled as they looked at each other for a long moment, silent communication passing between them. 'You do it.' 'No you do it.' 'You're the boss, it's your job.' 'That's right, I'm the boss and I'm delegating. Touch the creepy, unnaturally floating liquid.' 'Fine. You're sleeping on the couch.' Or something like that.

Mike reached out and touched one of the run away drops with just the tip of his finger. I could feel it, the interrupting pressure of his life as it entered the area I was controlling. It wasn't enough to disrupt the spell but it was distracting. Sort of like someone coming along and tickling their fingers along the back of your neck while you're trying to write.

“That is- that is so cool.” Mike's finger dented the side of the water for a second and then pressed through the thin skin of surface tension. It was a small drop so his touch destroyed it, the water wrapping around his finger like a second skin. When he pulled away the water stayed where it was, leaving an oddly shaped globule of water behind him. “It's water but it's just there. It feels normal only it doesn't act normally.”

“Magic. I'm keeping the spell going that's holding the water like this. If I let it go gravity gets to have its say again and the water will fall like it wants to.”

“There's got to be some sort of-” Harvey shook his head and wrapped his hand around Mike's upper arm, dragging him back a few steps. “This isn't possible.”

“And yet here we are. Are you bored with the water show because I've got at least one other impossible thing I want to show you.” Without waiting for them to answer I let the spell go. The water splashed back down, gravity reasserting itself with eager haste. Some of it landed back in the tureen but most of it got all over the table and the floor.

I could feel their eyes on me as I held my right hand up and snapped my fingers. The noise of the snap covered my quiet incantation. Some trade secrets needed to stay secret and the spell for my ball of concentrated fire was one of them. It sprang to life a few inches over my open palm, the heat causing sweat to spring up on my skin immediately.

Mike took a step forward and was caught by Harvey. The older man pulled him back and stepped in front of him. Protecting him. I bared my teeth at Harvey in a grin. 

“I hold with those who favor fire, personally.” I bounced my palm and the ball of fire bounced with my movements. “I don't recommend touching this one.”

“This is a trick. It's not possible.” Harvey moved in a step or two closer, trying to keep Mike behind him the whole time. It was the usual reaction to magic. Fascination and denial all tied into one confused bundle.

“It's not a trick and you know it. How could it be a trick?” I swung my arm out in a slow arc, moving the ball through the air. “This isn't knocks under a table or furniture moving. You can't fake this.” I tightened my control on the fire and then slowly let my hand drop back to my side. The fire stayed where it was, bobbing between us. I left it there as long as I could. Long enough for Harvey to stumble back and land in one of the chairs. Mike took the chair beside him.

I snapped my fingers again and the fire winked out. With a loose wave of my hand and a quietly audible, “Forzare” I brought my chair skidding over the carpet to me.

“You're a witch.” Mike's voice was quietly shocked but the color was coming back to his face as he sat there.

“Wizard. 'Witch' isn't used anymore. It's insulting.”

“But you're-” Harvey cleared his throat, clearly wondering when reality had taken a left turn. “You're a woman.”

“Your powers of observation are stunning. Still not a witch. The correct term, regardless of gender, for someone who is White Council is 'wizard'. We had a vote on it and everything.” One of the few Council sessions I'd made sure to be at. I had not been about to let myself get stuck with a slur as my official title.

“Assuming that I believe you and that this isn't all some drugged dream,” Mike made a sound that might have been a strangled snort. Harvey didn't even look at him but there was something about his posture that made Mike mutter a quiet sorry and go still again. “Why are you telling us this?”

“As I said we are having a small diplomatic issue. I think your expertise in negotiations could be invaluable.” Marcone rose as he spoke and moved over to the wet bar. 

“You want me to negotiate between the wizards and...what do you call yourselves? A kingdom? A barony?”

“Technically I'm signed to the Accords as Baron Marcone of the Freehold of Chicago.”

“Okay.” Harvey took the tumbler of Scotch from Marcone and took a careful sip. He didn't gulp it down which got him points in my book. “It's certainly going to be a challenge.”

“You have no idea.” I folded my legs up into the seat of the chair, getting comfortable. “How's your Latin?”

~

“You can't tell me this Spector guy speaks Latin. That's too crazy.”

“Of course not. Nobody speaks Latin except for the Council.” I tossed Murphy's backpack to her over the roof of the Beetle and we headed into the house. She hardly even hesitated at all before her foot hit the stairs. Familiarity was breeding contempt and all that. Pretty soon she'd stop eyeing everyone in the house as if she was two seconds away from arresting them for looking suspicious. “But you should have seen his face.”

“So what're you going to do at the meeting when the Council is all yakking away in Latin and your super special lawyer friend can't understand a single word they're saying?”

“Please. The meeting has to be held in a language that all parties present are fluent in. That's English.”

George was waiting for us right inside the door. He was pale and I had a second of panic, wondering what had happened while we'd been working.

“Everything's fine.” George moved in closer to Murphy.

“Then what's wrong?”

“Um. We have a guest. She's in the playroom with Miss Maggie and the Boss.”

“Lea?” That didn't feel right though. Marcone would entertain Lea if she popped in and there wasn't any way he would try and keep her from seeing Maggie if she wanted to but I couldn't see him taking her somewhere as personal as Maggie's room.

“No.” George took a deep breath and I resisted the urge to grab him and shake it out of him. He hadn't looked this worried since...lightning struck and I knew who'd decided to pay a visit.

“Elaine.”


	25. Chapter 25

I could hear their voices as I reached the bottom of the stairs. Not shouting but loud. They'd left the playroom door open then; it was the only way they could be that clear from that far away. I moved down the hallway quietly; not trying to be sneaky, just doing my best to not be noticed.

Maggie's hysterical baby laughter crashed over the ebb and flow of their voices and was quickly joined by Marcone's own quiet version of a laugh and Elaine's deep, husky chuckle. 

“Oh, that's very clever.” Elaine's voice grew louder. She was moving around the playroom, I could hear her muffled steps on the padded tiles we'd put down. Maggie laughed again and crowed wordlessly. “Does she do that a lot?”

“Since she discovered climbing, yes. I'm going to have to start dying my hair black if she keeps it up.”

“Takes after her mother then.” Another round of laughter over the sounds of Maggie slapping her hands into the floor. I rolled my eyes and leaned against the wall beside the door, out of sight. Maggie must have tried jumping off of the little toddler sized table again. “When we were...hell, we must have been just fourteen or so I think, Harry became obsessed with flying. She spent every spare second trying to work out the right combination of spell and potion to-”

“Hey!” I swung into the room as quickly as I could and nearly tripped over my own feet in the process. No way in hell was I letting Elaine finish that story. I knew how it ended, and Marcone didn't need to know I was an idiot who'd broken her leg in two places. “So, hi Elaine! So nice to see you. Shut up now!”

Marcone had Maggie pinned on her back on the floor and was tickling her as she kicked. He looked over at me as I came into the room and I recognized the glint of satisfaction in his eyes. Elaine didn't even bother to look at me, just flapped her hand in my direction absently. I didn't actually dive across the room at her like an action hero leaping in front of a bullet but it was close.

“Genius girl over there jumped off the roof of our two story house to prove she could fly. She'd have broken her neck if the tree hadn't slowed her fall.”

“It would have worked if someone, who shall remain nameless but who was just jealous of my skills, hadn't broken my concentration.” I reached Elaine and hugged her, pulling her in close to whisper in her ear. “I thought you were my friend!”

Elaine laughed, her breath hot against the side of my neck. We held each other for a minute, half laughing under our breaths before stepping back, Elaine's arm a warm weight against the curve of my hips. Marcone was staring up at us from his position on the floor, eyes narrowed in thought. I smiled and knelt to greet my daughter. Maggie and I 'boomed', after which she turned her attention to squirming out from under Marcone's loose grip.

I moved so that I could see both Elaine and Marcone from my spot on the floor. Elaine was smiling down at Maggie, her eyes warm and sparking with affectionate amusement. Marcone was watching Elaine and I, only absently playing with Maggie as he did. I could almost see things clicking into place inside his head.

Well, okay then. It was a conversation we'd have to have them. Maybe. Sometimes Marcone just let things go. Not often, but sometimes.

Maggie looked up at the three of us, her eyes a slightly darker shade of green than Marcone's and babbled something too fast for me to catch. She squeezed Marcone's finger and pulled it towards her mouth, small teeth bared in a goofy grin. Marcone pulled his hand free set Maggie loose. She pushed herself up and shook her head. With a final infant huff of displeasure or maybe it was indigestion she ran off to play with her cars, causing pile-ups left and right with gleeful abandon and sound effects.

"Not that I'm not always glad to see you Elaine, but what're you doing here?"

"Feel the love." Elaine took one of the Maggie sized chairs and settled onto the seat, looking completely ridiculous as she did. I always felt like some bizarre form of alien life when I tried it; my knees wound up around my ears and I had to hold onto the chair just to keep from sliding off. Elaine looked goofy but she managed to sit there with some kind of grace which was just unfair. "I thought I'd come early and help out with the wedding. Or anything else you need."

I watched her for a second. I'd lost some of my ability to read Elaine through the intervening years but she wasn't making any effort to hide her worry or her anger. Neither of which had anything to do with the wedding itself, I thought.

"Carlos has a big mouth." 

"Curly's worried and he likes you. He was very surprised to hear that you hadn't told me yourself." Elaine pushed her hair behind her ears in an old, familiar gesture and frowned at me. “I thought we'd agreed that we would help each other out Harry.”

"'Curly'?" I shook my head. "Never mind, I don't want to know. I didn't say anything because there's nothing you can do without getting tangled up with the Council. I'm not going to ask you for help only to get you into trouble. It's my problem, it's being handled. End of story."

"That doesn't mean I can't come and help behind the scenes." She stretched out a leg and poked me in the side with the toe of her shoe. "Some of us understand the meaning of the word subtle."

"I can do subtle. It's just so subtle none of you ever notice." I grabbed her foot and tugged, twisting it gently back and forth. "Murphy'll be down in a few minutes. If you're going to hang around?” She nodded, her eyes saying that of course she was hanging around and that I was a moron. Elaine's eyes said a whole lot sometimes. “The would you mind hanging around here and helping keep Trouble over there entertained?"

"I don't mind." She and Marcone shared a look that I tried to pretend I didn't care about or even notice. How long had they been down here talking anyway? "At what point are you going to start calling Karrin by her first name?"

"I call Murph by her name. Just, you know, it's usually reserved for when I'm in trouble and trying to convince her to help me dig my way out."

Marcone made it twenty minutes before he couldn't hold back anymore. I'd been thinking I was in the clear. We'd spoken with Elaine and Murphy for a few minutes, grabbed our things and left to meet the Council and the entire time Marcone had said nothing about whatever was going on inside his twisty brain. Apparently he'd just been waiting for a captive audience.

"Harry?"

"Yes?" I kept staring out the window at the passing buildings, refusing to engage in the conversation. Classic maneuver: if I ignore it, it will go away.

"So. Elaine."

I didn't say anything. Ignore ignore ignore. It wasn't even a proper question in the first place so I really didn't have to answer it. The car was filled only with the noises of the road for a long beat. Then Marcone drew in a deliberately heavy breath and pushed it out in an aggrieved sigh.

"This is the same Elaine that you and Maggie visited in California? The same Elaine you grew up with, yes?"

"Only Elaine I know."

"Ah." I could see his shadow nodding on the wall of the car. “And you two are...or rather were, I gather, a couple?”

“Now I say, 'a couple of what', right?” I rolled my neck and turned my head to look at him. Marcone was leaning against the far corner of the car, his legs crossed casually with his hands resting on his thighs. Comfortable. Relaxed. I could see the faint lines of tension in his face though, the soft kink of the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes. What I didn't know was whether or not the tension was from whatever he was thinking about Elaine or actual human nervousness over going to meet the Council.

“No, I think I've figured that part out for myself, thank you.” His mouth thinned out. “I don't- I want to ask, but then I'm not certain that I want to know. I am not sure what to say, actually. It's a new sensation for me.”

“I'll write it down on the calendar.” I unbuckled my seatbelt and slid over the seat until our legs were touching. “I'd told you that Elaine and I were really close growing up.”

“I'd rather imagined it to be more sisterly closeness. Not romantic closeness.”

“It was both, sort of. Does that freak you out?”

“Yes. I realize that you're not actually related, Harry but there's something very- I was used to thinking of the two of you as sisters, having your relationship neatly labeled and understood. It's uncomfortable to take my mental picture of the two of you and then add in this other.” John shook his head and leaned it back against the headrest. “I apologize. It's not important right now.”

“It bothers you. I get that. But it's not a problem. Elaine and I are over. We have been for years. We still care for each other, I'm not going to try and lie about that but we're just friends now.” I slid my arm over his shoulders and pulled us closer together, resting my cheek against the softness of his hair. “Now do I need to sing you a lullaby or some shit? Or would you prefer a little physical reassurance,” I slid my leg up over his lap, the skirt of my dress sliding down my thigh in a hushed slither, “before we go beard the old assholes in their conference room?”

I grinned at him, teasing. His fingers were cold on my knee though they quickly warmed up.

“Paul would never forgive us.”

I flicked a glance at the driver. He was very, very seriously keeping his eyes on the road and not at all checking the rear view mirror.

“Paulie,” I put on my best mob accent and earned a snort from Marcone as he pushed my leg off of his lap, “knows when to keep his mouth shut.”

“And I'm old enough to know better.” John looked out of the window. I could tell he'd relaxed a little bit. Good. The Merlin and his cronies could scent worry or weakness like fucking sharks. “The last thing I need is to appear before McCoy rumpled and smelling of sex.”

“Celebratory later?”

“Damn straight.”

I kept looking at Morgan, looming behind the Merlin. Mostly I did it to remind myself that I could not just start throwing punches. I might be able to take out one or two of the Council, the older and less physical ones at least, before the rest of them dog piled on me magically speaking or Morgan leapt over them all like a gazelle and we punched one another silly.

That last image had the appeal of being very viscerally satisfying even if it would have been counter productive.

"I feel that I must once more voice my objections to the inclusion of these people in this meeting." Wizard LaFortier's mouth was moving but it was the Merlin's words I was hearing. I smiled politely across the table and imagined pushing him out the sixth floor window behind him. Every time I had to deal with LaFortier I remembered his voice in the darkness, voting for execution. My trial had been held in Latin, as was traditional but LaFortier had been conscientious enough to pronounce his verdict in English, just for me. Bastard. Antique, hidebound bastard. "They are not signatories of the Accords."

"We did receive your formal complaint, Wizard LaFortier. If you had read the response I prepared, you will see that while my associate and myself are not personally signed onto the Accords we are covered under the provision for skilled bondsmen, allowing us to render our services to Baron Marcone in the areas for which we are trained." Harvey met LaFortier's gaze for a long beat until LaFortier looked away rather than start a Soulgaze.

“You are not a part of his territory. At best you are hired help and therefore unacceptable to be included in such delicate and sensitive matters.”

“At what point does one cease being hired help? My firm has been contracted with Baron Marcone for over a decade. I have personally handled his affairs that entire time. My associate is, under your own laws, in effect my apprentice. You have no reason not to allow us to represent the Baron's interests to the best of our abilities.”

LaFortier leaned forward, his naked head beetling forward until he resembled a Shar-pei. Only much, much less cute. The Merlin placed a hand on LaFortier's shoulder and the man subsided as neatly and smoothly as if it had been prearranged. Which it had, of course. LaFortier had been Langtry's man for longer than I'd been alive.

"Now, now. We're not here to argue, are we?" The Merlin, leaning forward with a twinkle in his blue eyes, playing the reasonable one. "The Baron is more than welcome to have his retainers with him if that makes him feel more comfortable. We're here to find a solution to this situation, not make it worse."

"Sure we are." I ignored the look that Harvey shot me; he was too far away down the table to kick me but I could tell he wanted to. "I'm still not even sure what the hell we're doing here or why my private life is something that needs to be discussed in a committee."

"We did send you a copy of the complaint, Warden Dresden. Was something unclear in it or did you simply fail to read it?" The Merlin smiled, all teeth and aggression. 

"Oh, I read it but it still doesn't tell me what the problem is. Plenty of wizards marry non-wizards. There's even precedence for a wizard marrying a member of another Accorded party. So I'm sitting here at a loss as to what we're all wasting our time with here." I knew exactly why we were here; the Merlin was a vindictive old bastard.

I felt Marcone's hand come to rest on my knee below the line of the table. I twitched my leg, making his hand slide off to the side.

"True enough, Warden Dresden. Many of our members do choose to marry outside of the Council. It's frowned upon, as I'm certain you're aware, especially in cases where there is a crossing between two nations as it were, but it does occur." The Merlin flexed his fingers, stretching them out. It shouldn't have felt like a threatening gesture but it did. Hands are dangerous things if you're a wizard. "I had thought that the difficulty with your particular union was obvious, but I see that I misjudged.

"You, as a Warden, cannot wed the leader of a foreign nation with whom we have no treaties with. Baron Marcone is not our ally.”

“He's not our enemy either. Marcone's a neutral-”

“Exactly. Baron Marcone is a neutral party, in theory. It is an unacceptable security risk to have someone with influence on the Senior Council as well as sensitive, detailed information about our strengths and security measures married to the head of a foreign nation that is not our ally.”

This time Marcone's hand grabbed mine under the table and squeezed. I squeezed back but let Harvey go ahead. I was still thinking. I'd been expecting something along these lines. A power grab, something to force me to get behind the Merlin's bloc in the Council. 'Vote with me and you can marry your pet mortal.' To which my planned reply had been to tell the Merlin to bite me and go ahead and marry Marcone anyway. The whole thing with Marcone bringing Harvey had just seemed like a, well, a goofy thing I was indulging Marcone in. Annoying the old guard of the Senior Council in the process. 

The Merlin didn't want me on his side though. Or maybe, really, he didn't just want me. He couldn't just come out and say that part after all. He wanted to drag Marcone into the Council's business. I was still thinking that telling the Merlin to go fuck himself was a good idea but it was more complicated now. Marcone would have to tell him to go fuck himself too.

“-hardly allow this to be a one way street, Merlin. If the Baron were to tie his interests to the Council's there would of course have to be reciprocity.”

Wait, what?

“What?” I leaned in to Marcone, whispering roughly. “Tell me you're not considering signing on for this bullshit.”

“It's a consideration, though perhaps not as serious as Mr. Langtry thinks it is. There are some advantages to being allied with a body like the Council.” I could see the disgust in his face. No way in hell would he ever sign on with the Council.

“If you would look over the proposed treaty you will see that we have made the standard provisions for mutual protections. The Council takes care of its friends.” LaFortier slid the document to Marcone. Harvey took it instead, with Marcone barely glancing at it.

“Certainly. If we could have some time to review it? In private.”

The Senior Council filed out, everyone still playing polite. After all, we were all supposed to come out of this as friends. With the Merlin holding the leash.

“It's not a bad arrangement.” Harvey handed the treaty to Mike who started to read through it rapid speed. “It's a terrible idea though. From what you've explained the Council's enemies are rife and incredibly powerful. You'd gain an ally that doesn't seem to move very swiftly at all to keep the promises it makes and enemies that would take the earliest opportunity to attack you as a way of getting to the Council. Making them appear weak through your destruction.”

“We're not going to make a treaty with the Council, Harvey.” Mike finished and handed the paperwork over to Marcone. He leafed through it, reading but not really reading.

“The old goat does have a point though. It's going to be a problem if stay with the Council.”

“Because even if there's no treaty people will assume that Marcone and the Council are aligned. They'll come and attack us anyway and we won't even have the vaguest threat that the Council's going to come down and help us.” I leaned back in the chair, letting my head flop back. “Fuck it. I could quit the Wardens. That's half the problem right there and if I distance myself from Council politics even more then they can't claim that I've been influencing Ebenezar.”

“Not enough.” Mike stood and started to pace a little, shaking his head. He and Harvey were doing the thing where they spoke without saying anything.

“In order to keep the territory secure and still hold onto it's neutral standing you need to be completely separated from the Council.” Harvey slid onto the conference table in front of me. I straightened up to frown at him.

“Which is impossible. I am Council.”

“Yes. You are. Which is why you need to resign your membership to the Council.”


End file.
